Her Bloody Majesty
by Rasquathena
Summary: Her father managed to make a single phone call to a friend before she poisoned him. Will Isabell survive in the Varia, or wind up the Prince's latest victim? Eventual BelxOC. Takes place with the future Varia.
1. Death in the Family

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, it's characters, or the song used to write this chapter.  
><strong>**The only things I _do_ own are Isabell, and my friend's soul for writing this for her.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<br>****[Death in the Family]**

The woman knealt down in front of the gravestone and gently swept the dead leaves away from the epitaph. Smiling thinly, almost as if in fond memory, she placed a single rose on the highly polished marble and ran a delicate finger over the engraved lettering. It had become a yearly ritual for her now: visiting the grave of the woman she'd killed without even trying. Her older sister Ciela, had never let her forget the deed.

"Happy birthday... Mother." She half whispered, standing slowly at the sound of her driver's approaching steps.

"Lady Bell, you're missing your lessons. We should get going." She turned to the man, the one pale grey eye not hidden by her hair settling calmly on him. Visiting her mother was far more important than being pitted against her sister in another pointless competition. It didn't matter how many ways they were tested, it always ended in a draw. Their current fight for their mother's crown was no different. One daughter would rise to her throne, leaving the other to clean up after their Italian father's mafia messes. Unfortunately, draw or not, Ciela was still the family favorite and almost guaranteed the position. She scuffed up a little bit of dirt and ran a hand through her ash blond hair with a sigh, almost knocking her circlet off of her head. It was a poor attempt to mask her irritation.

"Right." She gave the driver a dismissive wave of her hand and followed him back to their cleverly inconspicuous vehicle. The drive home was in silence. She was bracing herself for yet another confrontation with her father. As they pulled into the driveway, she pulled a lollipop out of her coat pocket, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth in one quick movement. She ascended the stairs and slipped quietly inside - intent on sneaking her way back upstairs to her room - when a painfully smug stare settled on the back of her head. Ciela. Before she could even turn to say something wise to the annoying presence, her father's shout echoed through the entire first floor.

"Isa_BELL_!" Bell slumpped forward slightly and clenched her fists. She hated it when people used her full and proper name. Turning slowly, she watched as he walked up behind Ciela and narrowed his eyes at her. "Where were you?" It was Ciela who felt compelled to answer.

"She was playing the guilty murderer and visiting mother, like she does every year. How much sense does it make to mourn for a person you've never met?" Bell's beautifully manicured nails were starting to dig into her palms. Who gave her the right to a superiority complex? They were born on the same day, only minutes apart, were raised in the same extravagant home. No one girl received a gift that the other didn't unless they bought it themselves. All in all, they were nearly identical: if one were to see the two of them side by side, the only ways to tell them apart would be their taste in clothes and their choice in hairstyles - Bell kept most of hers in her face, and Ciela always combed hers back. And Bell's inability to stay her tongue.

"One of these days, Ciel, I'm going to slit that slender throat of yours from ear to ear." A wicked smile played on her lips, "Then it'll all be mine."

"Wanna try?" The smile vanished as her sibling tackled her to the ground. Both of them struggled in a mass of flailing limbs and punches, much to their father's disappointment. He could barely keep the two of them in the same room with one another without something like this happening. Even their dance lessons ended in a similar confrontation. Only the sound of their matching circlets clattering on the floor snapped them out of it. In unison, they dove after their respective status symbol and inspected it for damage. When the circlets were found to be unharmed, the women quickly set them in their rightful places on their heads before shooting one another a seething glare. It was never spoken between them, but the silent promise that the fight would continue was obvious.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Isabell fell onto her bed with a frustrated sigh, her pale skin unmarked despite the usual night of trying to kill her twin. It was an impossible task; they were simply too evenly matched for one to get the upper hand on the other. Unless... A twisted idea crept into her head. Ciela always had to be first: the first to finish her lesson, first to be ready for a party, and the first to throw a punch or run away. Knowing this, and her sister's strict nightly schedule, she crept to her closet and pulled a wooden box from a compartment in the back wall.

It was velvet lined, and filled with her pride and joy: an extensive collection of knives and assorted blades she had custom made at her own expense. They were forged out of some kind of black steel, and shaped like a single spread wing of a raven or crow. Gingerly, she pulled them from their box and tested their edges against her thumb - taking care not to cut herself on the "feathered" edge of the blades. To her delight, the man had kept his word and sharpened them for her. She pulled some of them up into her sleeves and pulled her onyx black silk robe over her white pajamas, dropping more of the intricate blades into her pockets. She'd be damned before she allowed that wretch of a sister to ascend to Mother's former social standing. Bell slipped out of her room silently as her twin made her way downstairs for her own nightly ritual of stealing a couple of light snacks, and ducked into Ciela's room just before the door closed. Ciela returned only moments later and made her way to the bathroom - giving Isabell the time she needed to set her trap. She sat on her sister's bed and waited for the bathroom door to open.

"Still want me to try to kill you, sis?" She asked pleasantly from the bed. Ciela, unimpressed, snickered quietly.

"Try. That's the operative word." The cold remark was answered by nearly a dozen knives embedding into the wall next to her head. Bell tipped her head to the side, her bangs sliding almost entirely out of her face as she did so, and smiled at her sister's mildly bewildered face.

"You... Where did you-"

"Where did I get the knives? Where did I learn how to use them?" She asked before her sister could finish, "While you took your fencing lessons, I was playing with these. They've been in my room for some time now." Ciela's look of mild shock quickly gave way to one of rage. How had she not noticed? The older twin grabbed hold of the rapier she kept alongside her nightstand and pointed it at her sister. Bell simply smiled innocently at her.

"Murderous wretch," Ciela hissed, baring her teeth, "You just want me dead for the crown!" Bell's innocent smile turned to a wicked grin.

"That, and I just don't like you. And to think, I missed with those first few on purpose." From the waistband of her pants, she produced a pair of shortswords that matched her knives and twirled them deftly in her hands. Ciela swallowed nervously. She missed on purpose? She could have sworn her sister cut a few strands of hair from her head with those accursed knives. And she missed on _purpose_?

"Shall we pick up where we left off then? The usual, till first blood." It was Ciela's turn to smile. Their games of cat and mouse always ended up with one of them cut and bleeding somewhere. It was only by several small miracles that the pair didn't have a single scar on their bodies. Bell played with the one earring she wore for a moment. Would it be worth dragging out? A Cheshire smile spread across her face. It most certainly would.

"Sure. Why not." She flipped her legs up over her head and rolled off the bed in a backwards cartwheel, landing almost silently on her feet before darting out the door - jumping lightly over the tripwire she'd set in the door frame. Ciela followed quickly behind, not wanting to give her sibling a chance to make any distance between them, but stepped out into a dark, empty and silent corridor. She'd played right into it. In running after her without thinking, she broke the wire and disconnected the lights. Her body tensed. Bell couldn't have gotten that far already, could she? Cautiously, Ciela searched room after room in the upper floors, looking for even the faintest trace of her sister. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be found. It was as though the shadows of the hallways had simply swallowed her whole. A faint crash in the foyer caught her attention, and made her giggle quietly to herself. What a klutz her sister was, knocking something over. She'd just given away her hiding place! Ciela ran down hallway and staircase alike, choosing to slide down the bannister of the final staircase and land in the foyer with a menacing growl.

It was almost unnaturally dark in the foyer. Strange shadows stretched across the floor, and the usual moonlight that poured through the window at the top of the stairs was quickly blotted out by a passing cloud.

"Where are you, cyclops..." She muttered. Her answer was a faint snicker from behind her as a blade of cold steel pressed itself against her bare throat. Ciela swallowed hard. Where was all of this skill suddenly coming from? She couldn't have possibly been keeping this much secret from her and their father, could she?

"Yahtzee." A sudden burning sensation on her right wrist made Ciela drop her rapier and cover her now bleeding limb in pain. She wheeled around to her sister, a look of both shock and rage painting her otherwise noble features. Isabell stared at her icily, blood sliding along the feathers of one of her knives while the swords remained clean. Something was terribly wrong here, beyond her own bleeding wrist, and it was obvious in her sister's eyes. Ciela scooped her rapier off the gound in her unharmed left hand, knowing all too well that she'd have trouble wielding it. Rage from her wound clouded her judgement, making her charge blindly at her younger sister despite the knives she threw at her during her approach. Several of them embedded themselves deep in her torso, but the adrenaline rush allowed her to tackle the younger twin to the floor. They struggled for what felt like an eternity: Ciela trying to beat her sister to a bloody pulp, and Isabell leaving cut after cut on her sister's body. It was the final stab in the chest that made the older twin gasp. Bell could almost swear she'd said her name as she pushed the corpse off of her.

Kneeling on the bloody floor, she closed her sister's eyes in a single act of respect, before stealing the ring that she wore around her neck and stuffing it in her pocket. It had belonged to their mother, and she'd sooner be damned than bury her sister with it. Isabell slowly stood up. Her entire body was shaking - her hands the worst of all. She was finally free of all of the comparisons, free of the constant battles, with the beautiful scarlet lifeforce that now coated the floor of the foyer. It was almost too good to be true, but the blood on her hands proved it. For the first time in all of their twenty-six years together, she was able to smile - and laugh - and mean it. Her small giggle fit quickly gave way to full laughter, which caused her shaky legs to give out beneath her. She couldn't care less that she'd just fallen into the blood of her own sister; she was free at last!

"I knew it would happen eventually, but seeing you the victor is quite a surprise." Her head turned sharply toward the stairs, laughter and smile vanishing, to see her father staring down at her. Better make that _almost_ free. "Well done, but I cannot allow a murderer to live in this house. Pack your things, child. You leave in the morning."

"Leaving? Where could you possibly send me?" Her father gave her a stern stare that she knew couldn't be argued with.

"I'm calling in a favor from an old friend of mine. You'll be somewhere safe. Somewhere that you won't be able to taint your mother's name... and kill to your wretched heart's content." He could see in her eye that something had snapped; she was silently reveling in her victory over her older sister.

"You think I _enjoyed_ doing that to her?" She motioned to the body on the floor; it was barely recognizable. Her father chuckled.

"You make it obvious, child." Bell noticed movement at the corner of his mouth. Was he smiling? "We used to joke about your killer instinct, only now I can see how grave of a mistake it was. A princess steeped in blood is not fit to wear her crown. Get out of my sight."

A low growl crawled from her throat as she stalked up the stairs and to her room, slamming the door loudly behind her. She tore the circlet from her head and threw it onto her dresser before changing into some blood-free night clothes. He'd wanted her to kill Ciela all along - or at least wanted Ciela to kill her - and now that she'd done it, he was calling her a disgrace to the family. She reached into the pockets of her disgarded nightclothes and retrieved her weapons, as well as the ring, for inspection. Blood was begining to dry on her blades, threatening the beautiful pieces of black steel with slow decay. Was her sister's blood really any different from her own? They were twins, after all, and it didn't make sense that they'd be too different. Only half aware of her actions, she brought the blade close to her tongue and cleaned a little of the edge. She cringed, both at the bitter taste and the action itself. She slid the ring onto her left middle finger and examined it as she began to drift off to sleep. A dark stone set in a silver ring that was decorated with the same U-shaped crescent moon that was on her circlet - only this one overlapped a shield.

_Daddy wants Mother's crown for himself... I don't think I'll give him the satisfaction._ She smiled softly at the thought, and quickly drifted off to sleep.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

The first thing Bell did when she woke up was take a long, hot shower to get the smell of death off of her. She could still taste her sister's blood in her mouth, which she strangely didn't mind, but the idea of her corpse touching her at all made her feel vile. Only after she was satisfied the smell was gone - nearly an hour later - she brushed out her short hair and rummaged through her wardrobe for something comfortable enough to travel in. What she settled on seemed simple enough: a pair of knee-high black leather boots, black jeans, and a white silk shirt - which had an open angle from the right hip to just below the left side of her ribcage. Over that, she wore a black leather duster that had the left sleeve missing from just above the elbow. She painted her nails a scandalously deep shade of violet, put her mother's ring on a chain to hang around her neck, and slipped her hands into a pair of gloves that only covered her middle and ring fingers. Her precious circlet was sitting comfortably on her head before she headed downstairs with her case.

She kept her hands deep in her coat pockets as she slipped into the kitchen, searching for the teapot containing her father's morning drink. From her pocket, she produced a small capsule filled with a white powder. She broke it open, and emptied its contents into the pot without a second thought or hesitation. What was in that capsule was bound to make short work of her remaining problem. She walked calmly back out of the kitchen with an English muffin smeared with butter and blackberry jam, as though nothing had happened and she was still royally upset with her father. The breakfast was small, but enough to keep her busy as she took her seat on the foyer stairs and waited for the inevitable knock on the door - and the choking. As it turned out, both happened at roughly the same time. Sighing, she popped a lollipop in her mouth as she walked to the door and pulled it open, the look in her one visible eye stating that she was anything but thrilled with the turn of events.

On the other side of the door were four men and a black limosine. Three of them were obviously grunts, one of which had the misfortune of being forced to knock on the door, and the fourth was someone that just stuck her as odd. He was blond, dressed in a striped shirt and some kind of uniform. Even from the distance she stood at, she could tell he was taller than her. He seemed normal enough, but his eyes were hidden behind his bangs and there was a silver tiara sitting slightly sideways on his head. The candy stick drew odd shapes in the air as she thought. Almost as if he could tell she was studying him, he lifted his head to her and grinned widely.

"What have we here? A peasant trying to play nobility, or a princess trying to look common?" The blond's voice was dripping with sarcasam and his tone was completely condescending. Her eye narrowed at him as the choking in the dining room increased in volume.

"Isa... bell..." Her poisoned father had stumbled into the foyer, eyes filled with hate and betrayal. He could barely speak betwen gasps for air, "How... could you?" Bell glanced over her shoulder at the man for a brief moment and flashed him a small smile. His eyes widened with a dark realization before dropped dead on the floor. The grunt closest to the door took three very large steps away from her as she descended the front steps toward the limo. One of the other grunts rushed inside to grab her single trunk of luggage, eyeing the corpse of her father like it was ridden with the plague, and hurried back out to load it in the limo. She watched them carefully, studying each wary glance cast in her direction. The blond snickered.

"Family problems?" She glanced at him, knowing her bangs were obscuring the one eye he'd otherwise be able to see.

"Not anymore." Her gaze remained calm and entirely unphased as she opened the door of the vehicle and slipped quietly inside, crunching the candy in her mouth nastily and nibbling on the stick as he followed.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I haven't written one of these in full for a while - or ever attempted to publish one - so I'm sorry if my characters seem a little... off. This is kind of an experiment between me, a good friend of mine, and my computer's music player (she loves stories written from lyrics, and Belphegor). I'd like a few reviews before I even attempt to add on to this; I'm really rusty, so please be gentle (None of that "you suck" BS, it's just a waste of time and energy. I'll take constructive critisizm, but not insults). Let me know what you guys would like to see next. :3 (Feel free to PM me with a new song to add to the story.)<strong>

**Song used for this chapter: **_Wait and Bleed_ by Slipknot


	2. Two Bels

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, it's characters, or the songs used to write this chapter.  
><strong>**I still own Isabell and my friend's soul.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>  
><strong>[Two Bels]<strong>

Isabell took a seat along the driver's window, watching from the corner of her eye as the blond sat opposite of her. Whoever her father had called certainly had good taste in transport - and questionable tastes in messenger boys. She pulled her circlet off of her head and ran a finger over the intricate silver designs, the slightly askew U-shaped crescent moon, and the dark stone at the center. The maker must have poured an eternity into the beautiful little thing. Placing it back on her head, she leaned against the padding of the leather seat and waited for someone to break the silence. It was a grunt, the same one she'd terrified as she left. He held a clipboard and a folder in his hands.

"We're going to need some information from you, miss." She nodded and gave him a quick little wave of her hand, giving him the go ahead and expecting him to be the one to ask. To her mild surprise, the questions came from the blond.

"Name." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Isabell," She clicked her tongue for using her proper name, "Though I prefer just Bell."

"Age, height, and blood type."

"Twenty-six, approximately five-foot-one, and AB." He grinned and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning on his own interlaced fingers. She continued to chew on the slowly disintigrating lollipop sitck.

"Martial and social status." To this, she raised an eyebrow and stopped lounging in her seat. She tapped the edge of her circlet.

"I'm single. If that was your way of hitting on me, it's a poor way to do it." The man's grin widened.

"Don't flatter yourself y-"

"And surviving 'princess'," she air quoted the title, not too fond of it, "in line to take charge of Mother's homeland and fortune." His smile evaporated instantly as he slowly leaned back in his seat. The grunt next to him swallowed hard and cast a nervous glance between the two of them - as though he were calculating some dangerous math in his head. He swallowed even harder as she pulled one of the knives from her pockets and inspected it for any damage after last night's confrontation. A thin smile graced her lips as she found them both in tact and spotless. The obviously ill at ease grunt gathered himself just long enough to speak.

"What happened to the rest of your family, ma'am?" He asked, voice cracking twice in that sentence alone. Now it was Bell's turn. She smiled sweetly and leaned forward, looking the grunt dead in the eye and motioning for him to lean closer so she didn't need to talk as loud.

"Mother died during childbirth," she started sadly, but her voice quickly took a darker and more sinister turn, "I sliced my sister to ribbons last night during a game of cat and mouse, then poisoned my father this morning just before you arrived." The grunt shot back to his seat as she stabbed her wing knife into the floor between his feet, looking very uneasily between her and the blond. A thin smirk appeared on the latter's face as he listened to her recollection of the past day's events. The rest of the ride was in silence, until they pulled up to an enormous mansion. Bell eyed the place from her window.

"Welcome to your new home, princess." The blond snickered quietly to himself and exited the limo, leaving the frightened grunt to carry her trunk inside. She glowered at the blond's back. Just because it was her rightful title, it didn't mean she wanted to hear it. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she climbed the stairs and slipped quietly through the large doors.

The home she'd just left was slightly more lavish, but this new place at least held a far less tense atmosphere. She was strolling down one of the carpted main halls when she felt a curious pair of eyes boring deep into the back of her head. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a boy with teal hair and a ridiculously oversized black frog hat on his head. It took a great deal of restraint not to laugh, though she found herself still snickering quietly at the sight. How could he possibly balance under that giant thing? Did it make it difficult to walk through doors? Her hand drifted to the ring around her neck and thumbed the jewel at its center as she turned back down the hall and proceeded to climb the stairs. The least anyone could have done was given her some kind of direction. She was new here after all, with no way of telling where her room was - if she even had a room - or if she needed to talk to anyone first.

"M-my Lady!" A voice called from behind her, "Please, wait!" She sighed. Her status seemed to be getting in the way more and more often lately. Leaning over the railing of the staircase, she looked down to see the grunt that had accompanied her on the ride there struggling up the stairs with her trunk. Rolling her eyes, she descended the stairs and gripped one of the handles tightly in her left hand before pulling it along behind her - dragging the unfortunate grunt down the hall in her wake. The poor man stopped her at a room somewhere on the third floor and struggled with a key to unlock the door.

"You seem awfully nervous." Bell mused quietly, a very bored tone lacing her voice. Something in her tone set the man even farther on edge. She could practically see his pulse quickening as he finally managed to get the key into the lock and open the door.

"N-nervous? No ma'am!" He shot straight at attention as her eyes narrowed at him to show her disbelief, but said nothing else as he hefted the trunk into her room and helped her unpack her non-clothing items. The room itself was spacious, with a large canopy bed, wardrobe and closet. There was a loveseat and table off to one side, and a vanity mirror within a short walk from the bathroom door. There was even a set of double doors leading to a balcony. Everything had been colored in shades of deep, velvety purple. She sat on the incredibly comfortable bed, and couldn't help but smile softly as she took it all in. Whoever this friend of her father's was, they at least had the courtesy to look into what her tastes were. Once everything but her clothing had been taken care of, the grunt walked toward the door, turned to her and bowed. Again, she rolled her eyes.

"Boss'll be expecting you soon. If I may, I ask that you don't keep him waiting too long ma'am." He left without another word. This, at least, peaked her curiosity. Standing up, she walked back into the corridors in search of wherever this boss he mentioned might be. After little more than five minutes, she found a large set of doors that screamed 'man in charge'. Quietly, she knocked on one of the door before opening it a small crack - and nearly recoiled as a wine glass shattered on the door less than three inches from her face. It took her a moment or two before she realized that she wasn't the intended target for the glass, but the man in the room with long silver hair. He seemed to be arguing loudly with someone sitting in a luxurious high-backed chair, someone she couldn't see with the other in the way.

"What do you mean there's going to be a woman staying here?" The silver haired man bellowed, followed by the sound of something else shattering. His voice carried a lot of violence and anger, but little else. The voice that answered him, however, struck a familiar chord in her memory. Gruff, deep, and not to be argued with. The same voice as one of her father's business partners.

"Are you questioning my judgement trash?" Before things could escalate, Bell pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped quietly back inside. The other man was indeed who she thought it to be - she could tell from almost his eyes alone.

"It's been almost three years, Xanxus." She smiled thinly as the silver haired man gawked at the way she was addressing his boss. He opened his mouth to say something, but she quickly drew a knife and sent it sailing just past the man's cheek - quickly silencing him. "So you were the one Father called, it's an honor." She half-bowed to him.

"I was told you could fight." She nodded, "We'll see. Follow Squalo to the fields, Isabell." He waved her away dismissively, to which she nodded and dragged the stunned subordinate out of the room by the wrist.

"He... He didn't call you trash or scum?" The silver haired man, Squalo as her father's friend had called him, was absolutely bewildered. That was obviously a rare thing that just happened. "VOI! WHY DO YOU GET SPECIAL TREATMENT?" Bell released the man's wrist and promptly backhanded him, nearly sending him staggering to the wall. The ring around her neck began to emit a faint glow.

"He's an old friend of my father's. He was even hired as a personal bodyguard once." She motioned for the man to lead the way. He hesitated, shooting her a harsh glare before stomping down the hall toward the stairs.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

The building's other occupants accompanied them to the fields, giving just barely enough time for proper introductions. She was introduced to the very flamboyant "Big Sis" Lussuria, the stoic boot licker Levi, and the strange boy in the frog hat she'd seen earlier. His name was Fran, and she was warned of his bad habbit of shooting off his mouth. No one cared to introduce the blond that had picked her up at her home, but she was sure she'd figure it out sooner or later. It was probably safe to assume she would need to fight one of these men. Producing one of her knives from her pocket, she played with it while she waited for someone to speak up. To her surprise, it was Xanxus.

"Choose your opponent." Bell whipped her head around to find Xanxus sitting in the same chair as before at the edge of the field. She hadn't even heard anyone lug the thing downstairs, let alone carry it all the way to the field. Giving him a quick nod, she turned to look at the group of men that had accompanied her here. She knew all but one of them by name, and that particular man's smug little grin was starting to wear on her nerves. A small impish smile crept to her lips; she pointed to the blond silently. The men said nothing, but the nearby training grunts froze.

"She... she chose Bel? Is she insane?" So the man had a name after all. The grunt's sparring partner shuddered, "She must not know anything about him. Belphegor will tear that little princess apart." He was named for a demon of sloth? Her thumb ran along the edge of her knife as she walked to her starting point on the field, taking the right hand side to the spectators. This way no one would be able to see her eye following the blond as he strode calmly to his side, a wide grin plastered to his face. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets as well, but he appeared unarmed, and his slightly messy looking blond hair still hid his eyes from view. Was it a battle strategy? Something that kept his opponents from using his eyes to predict his movements? She shrugged it off and produced five of her knives from her pocket, fanning them in her left hand. Her eyes widened only slightly as he did the same.

"Ushishishishi~" There was that snicker again, "Strike one, princess. I don't like copycats." Without another word or warning, he began his onslaught of flying silver. Isabell calmly ducked, causing the first arc of knives to sail harmlessly over her head before throwing her own in a diagonal line from his hip to his shoulder. She was watching the black steel close distance when a sharp pain in her exposed lower arm tore her attention away. A hair-thin cut had been made across her forearm. How interesting. Another flash of silver, three more knives. This time, she raised her hands and caught two between her covered fingers - the third slid painfully over her shoulder. She could see a faint glinting in the fading sunlight, and grinned widely. Wires threaded through small holes on the knife hilts, clever. Ciela had tried something similar during one of their many games. Isabell twirled her fingers in small circles behind the caught knives, wrapping the wire tightly around her hands before giving them a strong tug toward her.

Belphegor stumbled at the unexpected tug, and dropped to one knee, just what she'd been hoping for. Had she not left her swords in her room, she would have charged at him sooner, but distance was her greatest ally with her knives. From her full sprint, she brought her knee up into the man's jaw with a jump, and landed directly on top of him with a knife at his throat. Something about this seemed a little off. It was too easy. Had she discovered his little party trick too soon?

"Check." She warned in an eerily playful tone. Much to her surprise, she felt a hand wrap tightly around her wrist and guide her knife to the man's arm. He forced her to drag the blade at an angle matching her own cut, grinning like a madman all the while. It made no sense. Why would he want to wound himself? A boot connecting with her sternum broke her chain of thought, sending her skidding across the grass. As she righted herself, she could hear a small gasp from Lussuria's direction. Her eyes looked over her knife, scanning over the familiar hue of scarlet as strange laughter began to echo from the other side of the field.

"She made him bleed." Fran's monotone voice stated, "New girl's as good as dead." Isabell ignored his snippy little remark. She'd been thrown out of her home last night, and wasn't about to let some arrogant brat take her life the next day. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movment and barely managed to jump to the side before nearly a dozen knives pierced the ground where she'd been standing. The second she landed, more were sailing across the field at her. She bit her tongue and rolled to the side again, the hair tucked behind her ear spilling loose and covering her other eye. She could taste something in her mouth, something coppery. Now it was her turn to giggle. That taste was so familiar, so _delicious_, she'd kill for more. The ring around her neck began to radiate with a faint red glow, reacting to her odd change in mindset.

Leaping to her feet, she ran at full speed toward Belphegor, a wing knife in each hand and almost completely ignoring the silver blades that were being thrown at her. She leaned low, deflecting every other knife with one of the two she carried. The knives that she didn't bother with cut her with minimal effort, but her focus was undeterred. She was going to cut that arrogant bastard to ribbons once she got close enough. Again she leaped at him, her hands closed around his shoulders and the two landed on the ground in a heap of glinting metal, much to the protests and shock of the onlookers. A low, annoyed growl crept from Xanxus' position on the sidelines.

"Enough!" He barked. The two immediately stopped their stuggle for control of the fight, a knife held at eachother's throats and both of them slowly staining the grass crimson. She could feel the stares of several grunts and the other men on her. To them, it must have been like looking at someone fighting with a non-gender-specific reflection now that her usual eye was hidden from sight.

"What?" She asked innocently, pressing her knife lightly into Bel's throat and watching the blood run down the blade out of the corner of her eye. Her teeth pressed together in a silent hiss as she felt him do the same. Her eyes narrowed behind her luxurious bangs as she pushed him off of her and dusted herself off, not bothering to stand up. She was perfectly comfortable on the soft grass... watching the clouds roll by... losing copius amounts of blood... Her vision was getting hazy. She must've lost a lot more blood than she thought. The idea of going to sleep was sounding very good right about now. No, that meant she'd lose consciousness soon. Forcing herself to her feet, she dusted the remaining dirt from her coat and turned to face Xanxus and the others.

"She's going to pass out." Fran pointed out. She responded by lodging several of her knives into his stupid little frog hat.

"Can it, frog."

"She's fine." Xanxus snapped, "Go get yourself cleaned up. Try not to make a mess of things until I can decide what to do with you." She nodded weakly at him and began to limp her way back to the building, listening to a few of the grunts whisper uneasily among themselves as she passed them. A few of them followed the trail of blood to her bedroom, and tried the knob, only to find it locked tightly from the inside.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Well, well. Chapter two... Looks like we have a little hate fest brewing between the Varia's new resident piece of royalty and its own prince. As usual, I'd love to hear from readers so please don't hesitate to drop me a review (none of that "you suck" BS. It'a a complete waste of time and energy). I'm always looking for insight and new songs to use. :3<strong>

**Songs used for this chapter:  
><strong>- _People Are Strange_ by Echo & the Bunnymen **(for the majority of the chapter)**  
>- <em>Requiem for a Dream (2010 Update) <em>by Damaged **(for the fight between Isabell and Belphegor)**


	3. Knife in the Dark

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, it's characters, or the songs used to write this chapter.  
><strong>**I still own Isabell and my friend's soul.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>  
><strong>[Knife in the Dark]<strong>

The fight had been a complete and utter embarrassment. Bell prided herself in her ability to control her emotions, and she'd lost it over something as simple as a little blood on her tongue. She'd spent the last hour and a half under scalding hot water trying to rinse away the feeling of such a failure. The soap and water stung her wounds, but it was trivial compared to the rare feeling of loss. Turning the water off with a sigh, she gently dried her wounds and began to 'fluff dry' her hair with a slightly less bloody towel. Things would've been different had she not forgotten her swords, so different. She slid into a deep violet silk bathrobe and sat on her bed with a mirror to brush out her hair.

"Never again." She vowed quietly to herself. Control over her actions was essential. It was the only reason she poisoned her father instead of leaving him in as horrid a mess as Ciela, it was the reason she'd put up with all of the family's mind games for so long. Her finger flipped on the stereo by her bed as she tucked the right half of her bangs behind her ear and secured it with a small hair clip - a precaution to make absolute sure they wouldn't fall in her face like that again. The white silk shirt she'd faught in had been thrown away, and she was already digging through her things in search of something else. She settled on a scarlet top that displayed her lovely athletic stomach and had cute little ruffles along the low V-neck. It wasn't her favorite color, but it would do. She had redressed, set her circlet on the night stand, and listened quietly to a movie soundtrack while she continued to scold herself. There had to be something she could do to get her mind off of things. Perhaps apologizing to him would make this strange guilt trip stop. But how? There was no way for her to explain herself. She'd momentarily lost her mind, plain and simple, and there was no way to make up for it. Maybe a walk in the clean night air would do her some good, give her time to clear her muddled thoughts. Settling on the idea, she put her circlet back on, opened her door and nearly ran smack into the frog hat wearing smart mouth.

"Going somewhere, crazy woman?" She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment before remembering he had nothing to do with her recent problems.

"I'm a little restless. Just going for a walk. Is he... okay?" The question came out softer than expected. She slowly began to walk toward the stairs, wondering if Fran would accompany her.

"The fake prince? He's been taken care of," - Had he just called Bel a _prince_? - "I'd stay away from him for a couple of days if I were you. He _really_ wanted to kill you earlier." She sighed. That was a feeling she'd grown accustomed to, having someone want her dead.

"I see. I was trying to come up with some way to apologize to him. Maybe I'll come up with something while I'm out." Bell had managed to descend the first flight of stairs when she heard Fran call her from over the railing.

"Hey. Are you like the fake prince, or are you real - royalty I mean." That was unexpected. She looked up at him, smiled thinly and shook her head.

"Though I doubt you'll believe me, yes, I'm the genuine article." Fran's upper lip pulled back a little, almost into a tiny smile.

"You know... I believe you. There's sincerity in that one-eyed stare of yours." He turned and strode down the hall without another word, leaving Bell with more questions than she had started with.

Belphegor was a prince?

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Isabell slipped outside undetected and walked quietly through the garden, enjoying the peace and the quiet songs of the crickets. This was exactly what the doctor ordered: time to make sense of what had happened during the fight. She'd been able to keep herself under control until her opponent started going crazy. While she dodged that second set of knives, there was a sharp pain on her tongue, followed by that familiar metallic tang. She must have bitten her tongue while she was trying to avoid becoming a human pin cushion, cutting it a little. Sliding her tongue against her teeth for a moment, she discovered a sore spot. There was most definitely a cut there. It would seem that the taste of blood was somehow to blame for her lapse in sanity, and that could easily be rectified. She'd simply need to make sure she didn't get any blood in her mouth. Having one problem solved was starting to make her feel better already, she could feel herself smiling a little as she stooped to pluck a black and purple flower from the ground.

The second that she reached for the stem, a faint glint of silver nearly made her freeze in place as it sliced clean through the stem she was about to break. Next to her hand, having missed her by less than an inch, was a very familiar and very unwelcome knife. She pried it free of the dirt, and looked at the tiny carrier-pidgeon-sized roll of paper attatched to the hilt. The letters on the small sheet of paper were written in rather eloquent cursive in a deep red ink, but their beauty did little to belay their sinister message:

_"I wasn't finished with you."_

She nearly shuddered, knowing all too well the reference to what Fran had said before she left. Turning the knife over in her hands, she noticed it had been polished to a mirror-like shine. Could it have been one of the ones that her blood had stained? Before she could even attempt to guess at it, the make-shift mirror reflected movement behind her - back toward the building. Standing from her low crouch, she turned and looked toward the only light still on at the third floor level. There was a shadow on the balcony two doors down from her room. It didn't take very long for her eyes to adjust enough to see who it was, despite the red flags her mind was waving. Belphegor was leaning against the railing, looking to see if she'd received his little note, his usual grin entirely absent. The phrase 'if looks could kill' passed fleetingly through her mind as she turned and walked up a small footpath leading into the woods - hoping to break the line of sight - with the note, the knife, and the cut flower clutched tightly in her hand.

Something about the darkness of the trees around her was much more comforting than being out in that beautiful garden. It was so quiet. She could hear the faintest rustling of wildlife around her, but even that was nearly silent. If only she could bottle that kind of peace up and keep it in her room for emergencies. Taking a brief moment to try to gather herself, she spun the flower between two fingers as she studied the knife that had cut it. It was feather light, and sharp enough to split a hair in two on its edge. He took incredible care of those little things. Folding the note carefully over the knife's edge, she tucked it in her coat pocket and continued along the path deeper into the woods.

Her uneasiness refused to go away as she turned Fran's words over and over again in her skull. He'd called him a fake prince, but then questioned her own bloodline as though it were a common problem. The only way she was ever going to find out what he meant would involve going to the supposed 'fake prince' herself for answers, and that wasn't looking to be the wisest of decisions right now. As if to punctuate the idea, a loud twig snap echoed around her, followed by a dull 'thunk'. She knew almost without looking at the tree to her left that a knife had buried itself deep into the trunk. Staring at the tree from the corner of her eye, she almost groaned with hopelessness. She would have been happy to see almost anything instead of that silver knife. Against all of her horror movie instincts, she peered over her shoulder toward the moonlight bathed garden... and the silhouette standing at the mouth of the woods. Belphegor.

Wrapping her hand around the silver blade, she wrenched it free of the tree bark and slid it into her pocket with the other one. She didn't want a confrontation in such difficult terrain, but she also wouldn't say no to another weapon or three. The stare she felt on her took an even darker turn as she did so, rapidly becoming something both sinisterly playful and murderous. Swallowing, she sprinted deeper into the woods, hoping to lose him somewhere in the trees. That quiet snicker, though distant and fading, sounded behind her as knives began to slam into the trees as she passed them. Isabell grimaced, trying to do everything in her power not to double back at the risk of running into a wire tied to a blade. Her plan was going about as well as the story about the blind men and an elephant. At least three times she needed to stop as a knife shot by her nose or knees, and each time she peered over her shoulder he was still just close enough for her to see. Prying another knife from a tree trunk, she tossed it behind her in an attempt to slow him down.

"Ushishishi~ You'll need to do better than that." She clucked her tongue, knowing from his voice alone that his eerie smile had returned. This was starting to feel more like one of those chase nightmares. At least in the nightmares she had the pleasure of never being able to see her pursuer. Knowing exactly who or what it was following so close behind you easily made it ten times worse. Another knife shot past her arm, reopening the hair-thin cut made by the razor wire only hours ago. It was high time for a change in tactics. Jumping lightly into the air, Bell began to ascend the trees around her and used the tree branches as yet another obstacle between the supposed prince and herself. She could practically feel the blades hit the branches beneath her feet; maybe climbing wasn't the best idea after all. Just as quickly as she'd climbed to the high tree branches, she rushed back down to the dirt and searched for a place to hide.

The place she found was within the root system of an overturned tree and its ancient neighbor. Keeping her breathing nearly silent, she leaned against the large tree and listened for any sound of her unwanted company. She could hear snapping twigs and faint rustlings of something much larger than the usual woodland rodents. Her hand moved toward the ring around her neck nervously. Why was she so uneasy about this? Ciela had tried to kill her on a nightly basis, and she'd grown very accustomed to these games of hide and seek. She'd never been frightened by an opponent before, but this man made her incredibly ill at ease. The footfalls began to get quieter, more spaced out, and she loosed a quiet sigh of relief. Pushing slowly away from the rough tree trunk, she looked skyward and mouthed a small 'thank you' - right before a knife pinned her to the tree through the shoulder of her jacket.

"Shit!" She huffed under her breath before turning helplessly to face her pursuer. Beneath his coat, she could see bandages wrapped around the entirety of his hands, upper body, neck, and even parts of his face. Had she really gone _that_ overboard? If she had, his anger was certainly justified. He approached her with seemingly practiced slowness, like a wolf closing in on its kill. Fran's words flashed through the front of her mind.

_He __really__ wanted to kill you._

Isabell pressed herself flat against the tree as a cold piece of metal came to rest on her neck, her one visible grey eye filled with more confusion than fear. He was still grinning, but she couldn't tell if he was actually angry or something else. That damned hair kept her from seeing his eyes.

"Hide and seek was a poor choice." He hissed, "I never lose." There was no room for Bell to move, barely enough for her to breathe. She smiled slyly.

"Neither do I." She brought her knee up into his, more than likely, bandaged stomach and yanked the knife holding her in place out of her coat. Reaching into her pocket, she produced the knife she'd taken from when he first appeared and turned to plunge it into his shoulder. Much to her dismay, he caught her by the wrist and pressed hard on one of her pressure points - making her drop the weapon. Furious, she brought up her other hand to punch him in the jaw, but that arm too was quickly caught and rendered useless. He shoved her painfully back against the tree, and shifted his grip so that both of her wrists were pinned in place by his left hand. She saw a glint of silver just below her covered eye and, much to his surprise, she leaned into the edge slightly. "If you're going to threaten me with a knife, you should at least cut me a little." His smile faltered as she pulled away from the blade's edge. Her lack of concern for her own well being was starting to kill his mood.

"You've been in this situation before." She could feel him studying her, searching for a way to get some kind of reaction. The smooth, flat edge of the knife drifted to her throat.

"Every night of my life for ten years." She admitted with a small smile, dropping the flower in her hand onto the back of his arm, "And here I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier." This seemed to take him slightly aback.

"Apologize?" She nodded.

"I know, how very unlike a princess." Her eyes continued to search for something - anything - that could betray his thoughts, "Since you're the assassin, and I'm the helpless woman, what're your demands?" She winced as the knife dragged slowly along her collarbone then quickly split her lower lip.

"My demands?" He snickered darkly, "I want you to bleed." She could feel some of the blood from her cut lip spilling into her mouth.

_No, not again... not now..._ The thought was a weak and futile one as the metallic taste flooded her mouth. It was still undeniably delicious. She stared up at him, waiting to see if she could find an opening. He was supposedly a prince. Would his blood be as bitter as hers and Ciela's?

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Cliffhanger! Looks like poor Isabell just can't catch a break today. She's on the brink of having another minor 'snap', and her target is as close as she could possibly hope for. This kind of took a turn I didn't expect it to, so... As I keep saying, don't hesitate to drop me a review (none of that 'you suck' BS, it's a waste of time and energy). I'm also open to any useful song ideas and would love to know what people are hoping for.<strong>

****Songs used for this chapter:  
><strong>- **_Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These)_, Marilyn Manson cover** **(for Bell's walk)  
><strong>- **_2010_ by Apocalyptica** **(for the chase)****


	4. Allied Rivals

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, it's characters, or the song used to write this chapter.  
><strong>**I still own Isabell and my friend's soul.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>  
><strong>[Allied Rivals]<strong>

A sadistic grin was slowly cralwing its way across Isabell's face. Something about this situation had suddenly become far more entertaining than menacing. Was it the blood in her mouth, or was she glad that someone could finally have a genuine upper hand on her? She squirmed lightly in his grasp. The darker part of her was trying to will her to break free, wanting to know if his blood did indeed taste as bitter as her own. She winced slightly as the knife in his hand slid down her bare lower left arm, but her grin only widened. Leaning her upper back against the tree, she lifted her feet of the ground and planted them firmly against his chest. In a single strong kick, she shoved him away and broke his grip. In a single movement, she pulled the other knife from her pocket and tackled him, sitting on his chest with her forehead pressed against his and the knife at his throat.

"Ah, I get it now. Your own blood's 'special' to you too." His hand tangled itself in her hair and pulled her backwards, quickly reversing the situation. Her eye widened as she was thrown to the ground and the cold knife was pressed against her throat once more. She could feel the blade shift with each beat of her quickened pulse.

"Get off of me." She growled, struggling to break free. He only tightened his grip on her hair and clucked his tongue mockingly. Her hand shot up and grabbed him by the back of the head, pulling at his hair. It wasn't fair. She'd trained herself for speed and silence, not for fending off an attacker stronger than herself at such close range. There wasn't a snowball's chance in the River Styx that she'd be able to move him, but she could at least find a way to make things just as uncomfortable on his end of things. Shifting her weight again, she barely managed to roll out from under his slightly raised arm and scramble to her feet. Behind her, he'd also managed to get to his feet - and wasn't the least bit thrilled with the way this confrontation was going. He took a step toward her and she spun around, the knife in her hand heading straight for his throat. In self defense, one hand shot up to catch the knife, and the other mirrored her attack. Her hand moved to stop the descending weapon, and both of them caught the sharp edge of the knife with their bare palms. The two struggled back and forth in a vicious tug-of-war to gain the upper hand once more. Their bleeding hands had moved over their heads, still holding their weapons, and their grinning faces were mere inches apart when a familiar shout made the two of them halt.

"VOOOOOI! WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON HERE?" They both turned toward the path leading out of the woods.

"Here?" Belphegor asked innocently.

"Nothing's going on at all." Bell continued.

"You're sleepwalking."

"You should really get back to bed before you catch a cold." One finished the other's thought with minimal effort, seeming to completely forget that they had been entwined in a vicious struggle for power. The two combatants shared a short, mischievious glance, wondering if Squalo would really take the bait. Unfortunately for them, he didn't. Instead, the silver haired man drew his sword and pointed it at both of them.

"Get back inside. BOTH OF YOU!" Both of them clucked their tongues, immediately releasing one another from their death grip. Isabell childishly gave Belphegor his knife back, eyes not moving from the loud interloper.

"Fine..." They answered in unison, sounding like a pair of very disappointed children as they stalked back onto the path toward the garden.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Once back in the comfort of her own room, she searched her bathroom cabinet for something to wrap her bleeding hand with. Her first-aid kit, as she soon discovered, was understocked and she'd need to find something else. The silk shirt that had been ruined earlier was still sitting in the empty trash bin next to her door. Perfect. It took her less than a minute to create a substitute bandage from the discarded shirt. As she was testing its sturdiness, her attention was slowly pulled to her blood covered left hand. It was still moist, but what was holding her attention was the nagging little reminder that it wasn't hers. In turning around and stabbing deep into Belphegor's right hand, she'd forced him to fight left handed when he did the same. Both of their left hands were drenched in the other's blood as a result. She couldn't help but stare at the bizarre staining of her hand, barely realizing she was bringing it up to her mouth to test her theory. Much to her surprise, it wasn't bitter at all. In fact...

The sound of her door opening made her quickly hide her stained hand behind her knee.

"You cut the fake prince's hand pretty deep, crazy princess." She recognized the distant voice almost instantly and turned sheepishly to look at Fran. With a thin half-hearted smirk, she held her yet to be bandaged right hand palm up, displaying her matching wound.

"He got me too. I'd say that makes us even." Isabell tucked her unused home made bandage into her pocket. She could always bind the wound later, "What did you want, Fran?"

"Boss wants to see you. And Bel. Something about knowing what to do with you."

"Oh," she stood, "Thanks for telling me. Hopefully this'll mean a lot less boredom." She walked across the room, motioned for him to step outside first, and shut the door tightly behind her. Giving him a dismissive nod, she began to walk toward the staircase - watching slightly out of the corner of her eye here and there for any sign of the supposed prince.

"Try not to move your hand too much while you're in there. Boss'll kill you if you ruin his carpet." She cringed. Her father's stories about Xanxus already warned her of his temper, and she was already wise enough not to tread on his good graces - what little good graces the man possessed anyway. It didn't take her very long to reach the same doors she'd carefully peered through when she first arrived. Straigtening her mildly disheveled shirt, she quietly pushed the door open and slipped inside.

Xanxus' frigid stare fell on her almost as soon as she passed through the doors, and Belphegor quickly shut them behind her before choosing a spot over to her right to stand. He didn't look like he was thrilled to be there at all. The two of them were already throwing knives at one another with their eyes alone, and their superior could see it plain as day.

"I'm starting to think I need to keep you on a chained leash." Bell knew the cold statement was directed toward her. She stiffened as he tossed a small object to her, but managed to catch it and turn it over in her hands. It was a small box with intricate designs that resembled falling feathers and spread wings - symbols present in all of her family's most treasured possessions. There was a recess in the lid, shaped perfectly to fit the ring she wore around her neck. The other blond snickered.

"What's all this about?" The question actually held an air of respect. She was mildly impressed. Xanxus produced a chained leash and placed it on the table at his side. She swallowed uncomfortably, hoping he wasn't serious about that thing. His gaze shifted to the other blond.

"Allow me to introduce you to your new partner." He proceeded to explain his reasoning, but neither of them cared to hear it. They were too busy staring in shock and annoyance with their mouths hanging slightly open. Partners? Xanxus told them they'd have their orders in the morning, and dismissed them both. The two glared at one another the entire walk back toward their rooms, Bell quietly wishing she'd listened to his reasoning for such a terrible match-up. Her focus was once again broken by the sound of a jangling chain. He'd taken the collar with him? Groaning, she turned sharply into her room, shut the door and locked it tight.

Falling onto her bed with a sigh, she closed her eyes and tried to see if she'd really heard anything he'd said. Something about being a natural born killer, being able to teach her to control her problem, and Storm Flames. It was fuzzy, but she had the feeling the pairing was for her own good. Her left hand smacked herself in the forehead pathetically. For her own good? Who was she trying to kid? She knew for a fact that it was because they couldn't get along. Her eyes once again settled on the coating of red staining her hand, and she couldn't help but smile thinly. That small taste had almost been worth the events of the past couple of days. Changing into some bedclothes, she slid under her silk sheets and fell began to slowly drift off to sleep. His blood hadn't been bitter at all; it was as sweet and biting as a pommegranite seed. The exact opposite of her own.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: A little humor this time around, hooray! This one's a little on the short side, but I felt a need to get my comedic outburst down on paper. I don't know why, but I'd been picturing something like that happening for a little while now... Looks like there's more to Bell's madness than we may have thought. As always, I'm looking forward to any reviews from you guys (none of that 'you suck' BS. It's a waste of time and energy). Want to see a certain song unfold in a future chapter? Let me know about it. :3<strong>

**Song used for this chapter:  
><strong>- _Monster_ by Skillet


	5. Bloody Princess

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, it's characters, or the songs used to write this chapter.  
><strong>**I still own Isabell and my friend's soul.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>  
><strong>[Bloody Princess]<strong>

The quiet alarm going off next to her bed jarred Isabell awake. Not thinking, she brought her right hand down on the snooze button. Searing pain shot through the cut on her palm and she shot to a sitting position, cursing under her breath. She'd completely forgotten to clean and bind the wound, not to mention she'd forgotten she had it entirely. Groggily, she stumbled to her bathroom and ran the painful cut under lukewarm water, nearly jumping at the sight of her own reflection. Her hair was a mess, and had fallen to completely conceal her eyes in her sleep. Small flecks of someone else's blood spotted her face and still coated her left hand. That was it, she needed a shower. Turning the water on, she quickly stepped inside and craked the heat to the point where the water was nearly scalding. Knowing she was going to be given an assignment today, she showered quickly, only barely drying herself off and slipping into her bathrobe before starting to dig in her closet for something durable.

Her hands shifted hanger after hanger, looking for something that she wouldn't mind getting a little dirty. Assorted pants, shirts, jackets, gloves, and boots were soon laid out along her bedside for her to study and choose from. Whenever she found something she agreed with, she hung it from the top bar of her canopy bed for further inspection. After what felt like twenty minutes or so, she'd found what she wanted. Hanging from the bar was a black leather duster with black fur trimming the cuffs and collar, and a pair of very nice black leather pants. The shirt she'd chosen was a deep violet with a black harlequin diamond pattern, and so short it could barely be called a shirt at all. Black leather fingerless gloves, and matching knee high buckle boots completed the hasitly made ensemble. It wasn't anything spectacular, but it would do - she even took the time to transfer the contents of her other coat to the new one. She quickly dressed, leaving her coat draped over her shoulders in a fashion similar to her new 'Boss', and hummed quietly to herself as she brushed out her hair. Her hand had only just closed around her circlet when she heard a faint knock on the door. Setting her brush down, she unlocked the door and opened it a small crack. It was Lussuria, holding a rolled up piece of paper in his gloved hand.

"Orders from Boss Isa- Bel?" Sighing, trying not to get mad, she tucked the usual portion of her bangs behind her ear and studied the flamboyant man with one grey eye.

"No, it's me, Sis." She produced a fan of wing-shaped knives, proudly displaying her dark purple nail polish, to prove her point before making them vanish back in the depths of her coat, "I was just about to come downstairs and see what the rest of you were up to. It's boring up here all alone." Giving him a small smile, she stepped out of her room and closed the door behind her.

"I'm afraid there isn't much going on." He sighed in an over exaggerated fashon and shrugged, "You and Bel get to have all the fun today. I'm jealous." He handed her the piece of paper and pouted.

"Yeah... fun..." She stared past him at the wall, leaning on the wall with her arms crossed.

"Is something wrong?"

"I'm not too thrilled to be working with him, is all. The cuts from yesterday still haven't even fully healed." Lussuria chuckled and produced a box from his pocket. It was startlingly plain, minus the Varia insignia brandished on the side. With a quick little movement, he pressed his ring to the box and opened it, making a peacock appear at his side.

"Pea-chan, tend to miss Isabell's wounds, would you?" The bird let out a soft cry and approached her, its tail feathers glowing faintly. Bell watched in mild amazement as the cuts the supposed prince had left began to seal and vanish. Within a few moments, it was as though they were never there.

"That's incredible! Thank you." He beamed at her.

"Anytime, dear." He placed a hand on her shoulder, "I know you don't like the young prince very much right now. Most of us can only tolerate him in small doses at best, but he grows on you. Give it some time, and you'll see what I mean." He patted her shoulder and walked down the corridor with the animal at his heels, humming happily, as though he'd just given her a great piece of advice. She shook her head as he walked away, sliding her circlet into it's usual place, and turned down the opposite end of the hall - toward her partner's room.

Leaning against the wall next to his door, she slid her arms into the sleeves of her coat and knocked quietly. Three minutes passed without an answer. Curious, she pressed her ear to the wall to see if he was even inside. The other side was quiet, but not completely silent. She could hear a faint tune reverberating off the walls, but little else. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn he was singing to himself in there. Shaking her head to rid herself of the ridiculous thought, she knocked again before opening the door a crack and peering inside. His room wasn't very different from her own, though the bed was slightly larger and the 'color theme' was scarlet as opposed to the violet of her own room. She stepped quietly inside and sat on the loveseat he'd been given, slipping a lollipop into her mouth. The tune she'd heard was coming from the bathroom. Apparently he hadn't finished getting ready to leave, and hummed to himself at the prospect of getting out of the mansion. She didn't want to admit it, but he could certainly carry a tune. Not wanting to risk seeing him leave the bathroom... indecent... she stood and moved back to the door as quietly as she'd entered. The sudden opening of the bathroom door and strong smell of steam made her freeze with her hand closed around the doorknob, hanging her head.

"What're you doing in here," he sounded genuinely surprised, but the sound of that smile quickly crept into his voice, "_princess_?" She clenched her teeth. He always used her title with such venom. Leaning her forehead hopelessly against the door, she made up a quick little lie - hoping it would get her out of there that much faster. She pulled one of his knives out of her pocket, the one he'd used to deliver his sinister message last night.

"I wanted to return this to you," she sighed, "I'd planned on just leaving it on your nightstand, but when I heard you in the bathroom I felt like I was intruding and decided it could wait."

"Ushishishi~ Then give it back to me." It was almost as if he knew he was making her incredibly uncomfortable, despite her efforts to conceal it. She turned slowly, and crunched the candy in her mouth to keep herself from turning bright red. He was dry as a bone, hair in it's usual mess and tiara already in place, standing at his bedside with nothing more than a towel knotted loosely at his waist. The bandages he'd worn last night were gone and his wounds were fully healed, presumably by Lussuria's peacock; she could see almost every detail of his well-worked torso, including the crescent birthmark on his stomach. It was no wonder she'd had such a difficult time breaking out of his grasp. Quickly averting her eyes in embarrassment as she approached him, she grabbed hold of his right wrist and slapped the knife into his open hand - right onto the cut she'd made. Rolling her eyes, she tossed the knife onto the nightstand and pulled the silk bandage she'd made last night from her pocket. Within a few short moments, she wrapped the wound and headed back to the door.

"Our assignment came in." She waved the roll of paper back and forth over her shoulder, "Grab whatever vehicle you want and meet me out front." She nearly slammed the door behind her and hurried to the wall, planting her hands above her head and resting the top of her head against the cool surface. In the back of her head, she was violently arguing with herself. The majority of her wanted to go about her day as though that had never happened, but a very miniscule portion of her mind held very tightly onto the image - one that'd probably be burned into her retinas for several days now.

_That wasn't Adonis,_ She told herself as she headed downstairs, avoiding the other residents of the mansion like the plague, _That was the man who tried to kill you twice in one day, and your partner for today's assignment. Don't ruin this for yourself with such girlish thinking._

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Their assignment was wet work, pure and simple. The target was a man who defaulted on his loan, he'd just taken the money and ran, using the information he possessed as his ammunition against harm. His silence couldn't be bought, and he fled to his estate to seek santuary, hiring a band of mercenaries for a little extra peace of mind. The man had been warned of what would happen should he betray the family, but it had fallen on deaf ears. That's where they came in. He thought he'd been issued a mere threat, but they were the absolute promise of his demise and that of his protectors. The pair had arrived at the target destination via motorcycle, having discussed a rough plan of action on the way there, and were patiently waiting in the highest boughs of the trees along the property line. Their prey had set up nearly constant patrols around the premisis, and they were waiting for the inevitable gap in security when the shift changed.

"Did you _really_ need to bring the leash?" Bell finally asked quietly, tugging at the chain leading from her neck to his hand. He chuckled.

"Yes, I did. If _I_ need to hold the chain to keep you at bay, imagine what they'll think of you." She scoffed at him.

"What makes you think they've heard of you?"

"Who hasn't heard of 'Prince the Ripper'?" She rolled her eyes and was about to retort when she saw their opening. She gave the chain a sharp tug.

"C'mon." The pair dropped to the grass and quickly moved across the grounds to the side of the building, ducking behind the occasional ludacrisly large lawn ornament to stay out of sight. Once they were positive that the mercenaries had gone inside, they followed their path to the front door. It was locked, of course, but that only delayed them by a minute. Isabell dropped to one knee in front of the door and quickly used her knives to pick the lock. The doors swung open noislessly, and they were greeted by two dozen armed men.

Belphegor pulled on the leash and lifted the chain to his eye level, proudly displaying his 'pet'. A few of them took a couple of steps back, unsure of what to think of the woman attached to the leash. So far, the plan was running smoothly. She looked up at him for a second, waiting for his silent permission to start tearing into the worthless peons cluttering the foyer. His ever-present grin widened as he nodded slowly and patted her on the head like a well-behaved dog, his hand allowing the leash's chain to drop loudly to the floor. Bell smiled sweetly at the men for a moment, tipping her head to the side as she crossed her arms and reached inside her coat. The one eye that could be seen widened in a sort of sick delight as she sent six knives flying into the room - each of them connecting with the throat of a mercenary - while she followed swiftly behind them. She made it a point to jump into the room's center.

Peon after peon fell as she moved with a panther's grace, the movements of her blades completely precise and almost unnoticable. She was closing in on the last one when she felt a tug on the chain attatched to her neck. Nodding, she dropped to one knee in front of the man and looked him squarely in the eye. He was well beyond terrified.

"Where is he?" She asked plainly. Unable to speak, the man pointed up toward the second floor. She flashed him an appreciative smile before she slit his throat wide open. Standing back up, she motioned toward the stairs. Her partner nodded and lead the way, searching for their target's study. They said nothing to one until the large, ornate, doors to the man's study were in sight. He barely turned his head in her direction, the wide grin unfaltering. There was blood splattered all over her body, decorating her pale stomach, face, and blond hair with flecks of scarlet.

"That's a fitting color for you, princess." She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, "The ones in the next room are mine. We can flip a coin for the peasant." Isabell gave him a slight nod before kicking the beautiful doors wide open for the 'prince' to take his share of available lives. It was over before it could they even had time to react. Clusters of glinting silver buried themselves in the man closest to the door, followed by Bel himself rushing inside. He tossed knives into the walls, narrowly missing the men but setting razor sharp wire throughout the room. Two of the remaining seven men tried to rush him, but were cut deeply by the invisible cutting apparatus. The remaining four were felled by the knives in his hands. Soon enough, he too was partially stained crimson. She entered the room silently as he slackened some of the wires and produced a gold coin from his sleeve. Their target crawled out from under his desk, nearly unphased by all of the blood covering the two assassins in front of him. It was as though he'd expected nothing less of them.

"Enough. I know when I'm beaten. I'm not foolish enough to go toe to toe with two Varia hitmen." Belphegor snickered and flicked the coin into the air.

"Call it."

"Tails." She stated flatly. The coin bounced on the remnants of taut wire and landed spinning on the desk. The small coin nearly tipped over when the other man stopped it between his fingers. A draw. How disappointing. With a small sigh, she motioned for him to finish what they came here to do - and he did so with deadly accuracy.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Isabell's brain was in mild overdrive on the way home. They'd actually managed to complete an assignment without getting in one another's way, and without one attempting to kill the other. It had gone smoothly, with no injury or hitch, but something about it all was bothering her. Had he complimented her or threatened her? Shaking her head, she told herself she was still a little rattled from what happened earlier. He was bent on killing her for one reason or another. There would be no reason to throw mind games into the mix as well, right?

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Wow, those two make an effective team O.o... Looks like little miss Bell may have had a small moment of weakness. Could she be falling for the man who's already tried to kill her twice? (It's a rhetorical question. Don't answer it.) This one was a little rougher than the others to write for some reason, so I hope I haven't butchered anything too badly. As always, don't hesitate to drop me a review (none of that 'you suck' BS. It's a waste of time and energy). We'll see if Bell's thoughts and curiosity come back to bite her in the next chapter. :3<strong>

****Songs used for this chapter:  
><strong>- **_Bloody Prince _performed by Yûki Fujiwara** **(Bel was humming this)  
><strong>- **_Wretches and Kings_ by Linkin Park** **(for their assignment)****


	6. A Game of Keep Away

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, it's characters, or the songs used to write this chapter.  
><strong>**I still own Isabell and my friend's soul.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>  
><strong>[A Game of Keep Away]<strong>

She'd somehow managed to fall asleep on the way back to the mansion, only waking up as the warm thing she was leaning against shifted. Instead of moving, she groggily turned her head to the side and clung slightly tighter to the object, keeping an ear open. The front doors opened and someone descended the stairs quietly, stopping only a few feet away. The eye behind her hair snapped open. It wasn't a _thing_ she was clinging to, it was...

"You're back," Fran's voice stated, "And covered in blood." Isabell slowly lifted her head from Bel's shoulder, smiling softly as though she'd just woken up from a wonderful dream.

"Don't worry, none of it's ours." She felt him chuckle underneath her and almost cringed. How had she fallen asleep on the way home? Better yet, how hadn't she fallen off the bike? Keeping her mildly pleasant demeanor, she swung her legs over the side of the bike and hopped off.

"How many?" He asked, feigning mild interest.

"Thirty-three." Belphegor grinned, proud of the body count - even though he only took care of nine of them on his own. Bell shook her head, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and started to make her way inside.

"I'm going to go clean this foul stuff off." She huffed and hurried to her room. When the door closed behind her, and she was positive it was locked tight, she fell onto her bed and buried her face in her pillow. Despite the pleasant air she maintained when she'd awoken, her dreams had been anything but. They were plagued by vicious images and things that made little sense. She'd re-lived both yesterday's fight and the confrontation in the woods as though she were a spectator, able to see both times where her sanity slipped into an unreachable portion of her mind. It was nearly too eerie to comprehend: whenever her own blood filled her mouth, she completely lost it. The look that came over her face whenever it happened reminded her of the supposed prince, right down to the annoying smile. Her eyes were what disturbed her the most: her calm demeanor replaced by an uncontrollable and unquenchable blood lust. To make the dreams worse, Ciela's corpse taunted her as she watched the fights. Her older sister laughed at every mistake, and made several stabs of questioning her reaction to the events.

_"Admit it, little sister, you enjoyed every minute of it. The blood, the pain, even the brat's presence. If I didn't know you, I'd say you were developing feelings for him."_ She walked to the bathroom with a sigh and wet a darkly colored washcloth, trying to shake the lingering voice from her head as she cleaned the blood from her exposed skin. Once she was sure the dark patches of red were completely gone, she tossed her coat onto her bed and slipped out onto her balcony. The mission and travel alone had taken up all of their day; the sun was already setting, painting the sky hues of deep red and orange. She leaned her elbows on the railing and watched the light slowly fade. She still had so much energy coursing through her from the bloodshed earlier, and was almost desperate to find a way to use it all up. When had she developed such a love of mindless slaughter? The clinking of metal hitting the wood nearly made her jump. Her eyes instantly shot to the balcony two doors down, but it was empty. Had she expected him to be there? Her hand drifted to her neck and she sighed with mild relief - the chained leash was still clasped around her neck. Laughing quietly to herslef, she unhooked it and tossed it back into her room.

"Nice shot, crazy princess. You weren't even looking." She bit her lip and whipped around to see Fran, a key in one hand and the collar she'd just thrown in the other.

"Serves you right for sneaking into my room," she pouted, but it quickly turned to a smile, "What'd you want?"

"I'm hiding from the fake prince. He fell asleep on the couch downstairs and..." He twirled a silver tiara on the end of his finger. The action in itself answered every question that popped into Bell's mind. She should've noticed that he was missing his trademark frog hat sooner. Her jaw dropped open for a second, followed by a wide grin.

"You didn't." She giggled. A small, mischievous smile appeared on his emotionless face before he answered.

"I did. I knew this would probably be the last place he'd look for it."

"Bored, I take it?" She laughed, stepping back into her room and offering him a seat, "I can hide it in here if you want." Fran tossed the tiara to her, which was slightly heavier than she'd expected.

"Would it fit you?" He aksed, that mishievous look in his eyes getting worse by the minute. She turned the status symbol over in her hand for a second, judging it's size.

"Looks like it might. Any particular reason you want to know?" Fran reached inside his coat, producing a black and light grey striped shirt and red zip-up hoodie. Isabell stared for a moment before removing her circlet; she immediately untucked her bangs and began to re-style her hair, knowing almost exactly where the illusionist was going with the idea. Taking the shirts in hand, she pulled them on over her extremely short top while asking what Bel had done.

"He replaced my chapstick with lipstick, and all of my clothes with lolita dresses, sometime before he left. It's taken me all day to find my things and wash the make up off." Bell bit her lip to keep from laughing. Fran in a dress with lipstick? It was just as cruel as it was hilarious. She was adjusting the sweatshirt as Fran began to cast a minor illusion over her. She grew eight inches in height, and within a few brief moments she could have passed as Belphegor's identical twin. Grinning widely, she nestled the tiara in her hair - turning to the left as he always did - and took a quick peek at herself in the mirror. The disguise was flawless. She would have found the change disturbing if she wasn't about to have so much fun with it.

"Oh, you're good." She stated in Bel's voice, sliding her hands into her pockets before turning back to him. There were knives in the pockets of the sweatshirt, and she nearly cut herself on them. Was there a single coat he owned that wasn't lined with sharp objects?

"Thank you," He mock bowed, "But this illusion won't hold up very long if you wander too far away, so stay close by." She nodded, and stole another glance at her reflection. This was very odd, but would also be very effective. Curious, she brought a hand up to her messy hair, intent on pulling the bangs back. If the illusion was this effective, maybe she could finally see if his eyes told anything at all. Before her bent finger could move the hair out of her eyes, Fran's hand closed around her wrist.

"You can't blame me for being curious, can you?"

"Most of us have only seen his eyes once. Your turn will come sooner or later. Now, c'mon." Pulling her arm away from her hair, he dragged her out into the hall by the wrist. They didn't even make it to the stairs before the supposed prince came stalking up into the hall.

To say he was pissed would have been the understatement of the century. The hands that were almost always in his pockets were curled into tight fists, and his usual smile was nowhere to be seen. Fran's frog hat rested on his head, staring at the two of them with it's oversized eyes. A low, almost feral, growl crawled from the depths of his throat the second he saw the pair and hurled the hat back at the illusionist. Bell shot a slightly concerned glance to Fran, the grin she'd been wearing so proudly instantly vanishing.

"I thought you said he was asleep." She growled through gritted teeth.

"He was. I woke him up when I ran off." Now it was her turn to be furious. He hadn't wanted to use her to tarnish Bel's name, he wanted to pit the two of them against one another again... and it worked. The annoyed prince grabbed her by the shoulder and slammed her back to the wall, his glare burning deep into her own hidden eyes. Her hands instinctively shot up and grabbed hold of his shoulders, trying to push him away, but to no avail. To her suprise, he didn't pull any knives on her this time.

"Fran, when I get away from this bastard, I'm going to kill you." She released Bel's shoulders in futility. Her captor leaned next to her head to tell her something, and she nearly shuddered at the sudden breath across her ear.

"Toss it down the hall." He whispered. She nodded and did as she was told, removing the tiara and gently lobbing it down the hall toward his room, "Good. Now, I'm going to turn and beat the snot out of him. You're welcome to join in."

When he pulled his head away from her ear, they were both grinning like lunatics. He took half a step away from her and turned partially to Fran, who was staring with concern as the prince and his new clone - he didn't like the way they were looking at him like lions eyeing a side of beef. In unison the two dove at the magician, fully intent to render him immobile for the next week. Much to their dismay, their target turned into a purple vapor and vanished, leaving the two of them laying awkwardly on top of one another. Isabell groaned painfully and tried to stand, her perfect disguise evaporating as quickly as the fake Fran. A hand in the middle of her back forced her back to the carpet.

"Let me go, dammit!" She growled as he flipped her to her back with one arm. He sat on her stomach, hands holding her lower arms against the floor to keep her from pushing him off.

"I want my clothes back first." He grinned. Bell could feel her face heating up.

"Ever think I might not have much else on under these?" She spat defensively. His hands shifted, placing both of her wrists in the grip of his left hand and yanking her to her feet as he stood. He rushed to his tiara and scooped it up off the floor before nearly throwing her back into her own room. The 'prince' followed close behind, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm waiting." He snickered and pulled a knife out of his pocket to keep himself entertained. Both the sweatshirt and the shirt under it were much too large for her now, exposing her shoulders and the straps of her own short shirt. She stuck her tongue out at him before turning her back, peeling the sweatshirt off and throwing it over her shoulder at him. Modesty wasn't a word she was very familiar with, but she couldn't help but feel slightly self conscious at the stare she felt on her back. Grumbling something foul under her breath, she tore the shirt off and hurled it at him as she had with the sweatshirt.

"There. Happy now?" She demanded, not turning to look at him. A shiver ran down her spine as the cold steel of a knife slid between her neck and the chain holding her mother's ring. She hadn't even heard him move. Pulling one of her own knives from her pocket, she reached behind her and pressed it to his throat. There was no way she was going to trade her necklace in apology. It did nothing to deter him. She felt his long fingers quickly unhook the clasp and slide the chain away from her.

"This is for sneaking into my room. You can have it back when you learn to behave." He teased, dangling the chain in front of her face. That was it. Spinning around she rammed her shoulder into his chest and grabbed hold of her ring. The strong chain didn't break as she'd hoped, and she watched in fury as he twirled the necklace tightly around his hand before sliding it into his pocket. She rushed up to him and grabbed hold of the back of his head, pulling him down to look her square in the eye.

"You have until midnight to give it back. Otherwise, I'm going to kill you for it."

"I can hardly wait." He chuckled quietly before breaking free of her grip and heading back to his own room. Through the open door, she saw Fran sitting against the wall with a laptop resting on the floor next to him. A small digital camera was plugged into it, and he was typing furiously. He gave her a mischievous glance as he pressed the final key to upload his recording for posterity. She felt her eye twitch. That little brat! With a light flick of her wrist, the knife that had formerly pressed against Bel's throat severed the wire connecting the devices and buried itself deep into the keyboard.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

She didn't bother to eat dinner with the others, stealing a pommegranite from the kitchen, splitting it in half and heading back to her room in silence. Her ring had yet to be returned to her, and her patience with the supposed prince was starting to wear dangerously thin. Placing the plate with the fruit halves on her nightstand, she fixed her hair and put her circlet back on her head. It felt great to be herself again, instead of masquerading that bratty prince. Lussuria must have had his head crammed very far up his flamboyant rectum if he thought that nuisance could grow on anyone. Plate of bloody-looking fruit in hand, she stepped out onto the balcony to try to clear her rage.

It was a beautiful night for a confrontation: there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and the stars had only just begun to appear in the blackness above her. Popping the first few seeds into her mouth, she quietly began to come up with her plan of attack. His room was only two doors down, and the balcony's were just close enough to jump to. As far as she was aware, those doors had no locks on them. Perfect. She smiled to herself and popped another few seeds into her mouth, humming in quiet content at the thought of tearing that brat apart. Over to her right, a pair of doors opened quietly. Was he coming out to enjoy the quiet before the storm? She placed another one of the bitter seeds on her tongue to silence the thought.

"_Iiisa-beeell~_" She nearly choked on her delicious pommegranite seeds, whipping her head to the outcropping two doors away. He was leaning on the railing, a glinting piece of silver dangling around his neck. Her mother's ring. He was wearing the thing like a prized possession, some kind of trophy well-earned. Gritting her teeth, she turned her head back toward the stars and went back to eating what little food she'd grabbed. A knife sailed across the bridge of her nose.

"The prince doesn't like to be ignored." Without turning her head, she hurled the untouched half of her fruit at him.

"Are you really even a prince?" She asked boredly, leaning her back against the railing and watching as he began to pluck seed after seed out of the fruit. A thin smile began to creep across his face.

"Would a real princess need to ask? Of course I am." Her response was identical to what she'd recieved for ignoring him. She ran a finger along her circlet thoughtfully. He _did_ have a point. Despite his strange nature, he certainly bore some of the hallmarks of a former princehood. Shaking her head slowly, she ate a few more seeds before asking the all-important question.

"Is it game time already? Seeing my ring around your neck is starting to piss me off."

"Only if you think you can play." She turned to him with a grin. That's exactly what she'd wanted to hear. In half a second's time she leaped across the outcroppings and snapped the chain holding her mother's ring from around his neck. Sliding the ring comfortably onto the middle finger of her left hand, she pressed a knife to his throat in warning. With her sitting on his chest like this, it was the perfect opportunity to get a glimpse behind those messy bangs. One of his hands wrapped itself tightly around her wrist before she could move the hair out of his face, that annoying smile quickly appearing. Not wanting to move the knife from his throat, she bent forward and bit onto his hand, forcing him to recoil. His skin was softer than she'd expected. Something clinked painfully in her mouth. Running her tongue quickly over the foreign object, she discovered it was a ring. Grinning herself, she stuck her tongue out for a brief moment - the ring balanced precariously on the end of it - and leaped back to her balcony.

"Want it back?" She taunted him, taking the speed he used to get back to his feet as a silent 'yes' and running back into the building. The ring remained in her mouth, the one place she felt he wouldn't be able to simply get it back, as she ran down the halls of the third floor. She could hear the door to his room burst open and the dragging of a knife along the wall behind her. The bastard hadn't wasted a second. A knife burying itself in her back hastened her pace downstairs, and into the basement. Her hand wrapped around the handle of the knife and pulled it free as she rushed down the stairs and into the darkness of the wine cellar. Surely he wouldn't bother to hunt for her here.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, she wandered through the cellar in near silence. In her hand she now held his weapon, and turned the ring over in her mouth. It tasted like blood, sweat, and metal. Her thoughts were torn between whether to fight him if he came down the stairs or to simply hand his ring back and accept the consequences. Since when had she ever been so submissive? Scolding herself for the thought, she pulled the ring out of her mouth for a better look at it. It wasn't much: a red stone cut into the shape of a shield with their insignia inside and a silver banner across it. The ring had a little bit of weight to it - just enough to need less effort to cause a black eye - but there was really nothing overly noteworthy. On the inside of the band, she could see his name inscribed in elegant script. She ran her finger over the etching, feeling each letter. The ring almost slipped onto her own finger when the door to the cellar burst open, filling the darkness with a slender ray of light. As a precaution, she popped the ring back in her mouth.

Light footfalls quickly descended the stairs, reaching the stone floor in less than a minute. She immediately slowed her breath and sat as still as stone. Maybe she'd be lucky and he'd walk right past her. It was very dark in the cellar, and the idea wasn't entirely unfathomable. Her hopes were sliced to tiny ribbons as a hand closed on her bare shoulder and forced her to her feet. Bringing her foot up sharply behind her, she kicked her stalker and the knee and bolted toward the stairs - only to be stopped as he rounded the corner and slammed a hand against the wall next to her head. Sighing, she turned to face him, knowing that it was pointless to try to slither her way out at this point. What she hadn't expected was his face to be less than three inches away from hers - a silver blade the only thing keeping them apart. She'd never been happier to see a knife held to her face.

"I win." He snickered, "Now give my ring back, and I won't need to make you bleed." She held the ring in her teeth and grinned.

"Maybe that's what I want you to do." It wasn't easy to speak around the ring, but she was sure he understood her. His grin faltered for a moment as she pulled the piece of jewelry back into her mouth. The knife slid over her lower lip, drawing blood instantly.

"If you insist..." She grit her teeth. He wanted his ring back that badly? Fine. She'd give it back - but not without making him as awkward and uncomfortable as he insisted on making her.

"All right, all right. Here, Prince Brat." Her right hand gently pushed the knife away from her face, giving herself a little breathing room. Before he could have a chance to react, her hand closed around the back of his head and pulled his mouth to hers. His surprise, fortunately, made it unnecessary for her to pry his mouth open and she was able to pass his ring to him with minimal effort. She felt teeth close around her bleeding lip, and his tongue probe into the wound - making her wince and pull back sharply. A hand tangled itself in her hair and pulled her away slowly, making the cut gush. Bell blinked: he'd just taken some of her blood.

"How unlike a princess to be so forward," he teased, "Is there something you want to tell me?" She glared at him, eyes focused on the small amount of blood on his mouth - _her_ blood. Her face felt awfully warm all of a sudden. She hadn't wanted that odd pain to stop. In a way he was right. She wanted to gut him nearly as badly as she didn't want to move right now... he was so _warm_.

"Yeah. Nice cologne." She grumbled, snaking her way out of his grip and heading up the stairs. There was a very good chance that this'd come back to haunt her as soon as the sun rose. Why hadn't she just handed him the damn ring? Did she really think it was possible to make him uncomfortable when he was alone? She couldn't scold herself enough on the way to her room. Maybe she'd spar with someone over the next few days to forget tonight ever happened. Squalo would be perfect for that. She slammed her bedroom door and locked it, then did the same with the doors leading to the balcony before falling onto her bed and burying her face in the pillows.

He was a rutheless killer. A maniac. A prince.

_"The perfect match for you, Isabell."_ Her sister's voice taunted in the back of her head.

"Ciela, do me a favor. Shut up and stay dead." She grumbled into her pillowcase as she drifted into a confused sleep.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Awkward much? I almost think Fran decided to play a little game of matchmaker here... This was very difficult for me to write (I'm really not the romantic sort) so I'll give myself a pat on the back after I'm sure I didn't screw it all up. As always, I look forward to reviews (none of that 'you suck' BS. It's a waste of time and energy). Some vicious training sessions and maybe a mission or two coming up. ^_^<strong>

****Songs used for this chapter:  
><strong>**- _Original Prankster_ by The Offspring **(for Fran's prank)**  
>- <em>This Moment <em>by Disturbed **(for the chase)**  
>- <em>Not Strong Enough<em> by Apocalyptica **(for the remainder of the chapter)**


	7. Dressed to Kill

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, it's characters, or the song used to write this chapter.  
><strong>**I still own Isabell and my friend's soul.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>  
><strong>[Dressed to Kill]<strong>

Isabell stood at the edge of the fields closest to the garden, going through the slow practiced motions of Tai Chi, eating an English muffin smothered in blackberry jam. Her short hair had been clipped slightly more out of her face than usual - revealing a full eye-and-a-half as opposed to the normal one - and was held in place by her precious circlet. She was waiting as patiently as she could for Squalo to make his morning trip to the field, and trying as hard as she could to forget her minor slip-up the night before. Her movements fell out of time as the memory floated back to the surface. Clucking her tongue, she sat cross-legged near a well-maintained rose bush and finished her small snack. The loose jeans she wore doubled as a nice cushion against the hard earth. For once, she didn't look like she'd been raised in an luxurious estate: faded black jeans, flat skateboard sneakers, a deep violet tank top, and a hoodie with its sleeves torn off and the hood up to keep the sun out of her eyes. She could've passed a student were it not for the wing-shaped swords strapped to her waist.

An opening door snapped her attention to the building just in time to see Squalo and Lussuria making their way toward the field. Jumping lightly to her feet, she quickly walked over to the two senior Varia members.

"Captain Squalo?" She asked innocently, a gentle smile painting her face. He immediately whipped around to face her, holding his weapon a mere inche from her nose.

"What do you want, psycho brat?" He obviously hadn't forgotten about her playful little backhand when they first met. Bell's little smile didn't falter as she motioned to the blades at her sides and began to slide on a pair of fingerless gloves.

"Lessons maybe? Perhaps to blow off a little steam after an... incident... last night?" The expression on the older man's face changed instantly from one of agitation to one of mild amusement. He grabbed her roughly by the back of her hoodie and shoved her in the direction of the field.

"Be gentle with her!~" Lussuria called after them, "I heard Boss might have another assignment for her soon!" Bell groaned. Another job with that infuriating brat? Clucking her tongue, she drew her swords and rotated them comfotably in her hands - barely crossing them in front of her face in time to catch the captain's blade between her own. The man hadn't wasted a second. Her gentle smile quickly evaporated as she pushed him away and followed up with a charging attack of her own: jumping into the air and once again catching her crossed blades on his weapon. As she adjusted her blades in an attempt to toss him to the side, he threw her across the field with a strong motion of his arm - sending her skidding across the grass.

Using her momentum, she sprung back to her feet and righted herself for a second charge. Squalo appeared to have the same idea, and their swords clashed together loudly at the field's approximate center.

"You're holding back." She noted plainly, pressing slightly harder on her weapons.

"I don't want you snapping like you did with Bel." He growled, maintaining even pressure on his sword. She flashed him a two-second sadistic smile.

"I wouldn't dream of it." She answered cooly, sweeping her leg across the grass and kicking Squalo's feet out from under him. Unfortunately as he fell, his empty hand closed around her shoulder - pulling her to the grass with him. She couldn't help but laugh as she landed roughly on her shoulder, earning a cold glare from the captain. Apparently, she wasn't supposed to have fun when trying to keep from killing someone else. The older male opened his mouth to say something, but was stopped short by a silver knife flying just past the end of his nose. Both combatants turned a cold glare to an empty but open window as Bell plucked the knife from the dirt. It was nearly identical to the one bearing Belphegor's first message: a tiny roll of paper once again tied to the weapon's hilt.

"VOOOI! What the hell was that?" With a sigh, Bell untied the small piece of paper and carefully unrolled the delicate sheet in her hands. It was written in the same elegant cursive and deep red ink as the first, this one telling her that Xanxus wanted to speak with the two of them. She rolled her eyes and gave Squalo a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"I'm afraid we need to stop playing now." She teased, hurrying back in the direction of the mansion, "Maybe you could teach me something _useful_ later." Glancing over her shoulder, she flashed the shocked man a playful smile before slipping back inside.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

She entered Xanxus' room slowly, prepared for any and all objects that he may throw in her direction. Much to her surprise, and relief, nothing came flying in her direction at all. She bowed to her former body guard and smiled softly at him as he handed her a folder, which she opened immediately. It looked to be more wet work, but this one had an entertaining little twist: she was to go to a rather lavish party, and was required to dress as her status entitled... with Belphegor. The pair of hidden eyes she felt staring over her shoulder narrowed.

"We're going as a _couple_?" She nearly spat in disgust, but she knew better.

"Yes. You are. The target won't invite just anyone to his get togethers." From the inside of his coat, Xanxus produced two red velvet envelopes trimmed with gold lace and tossed them to her, "When I mentioned a royal pair, she couldn't write these fast enough." A cruel, dark smirk flashed across his face. Isabell continued to flip through the pages, catching the envelopes calmly in one hand and handing one to her partner as she read the details. There were several targets this time - most of which were old associates of her father's - and all of them were conveniently attending the same party. Six targets were listed in all, including the host of the party, and all needed to be taken care of quietly. Giving her boss a quick nod, she turned on her heel and hurried out of the room to pack. She paused for less than a second at the door.

"A question, if you don't mind."

"What." The venom in his tone made her head duck slightly.

"Is the dress code necessary? I left all of my gowns and frilly things back at father's summer home." She hated her status enough as it was, dressing the part and acting it would be enough to kill her.

"Lussuria can take care of it." Sighing, she nodded again and hurried out of the room toward the stairs, her nose still buried deep in the contents of the file she'd been given. It gave photos and details on the four men and two women that her father had kept closest to him, as well as all of their tastes and habits. Whoever had been gathering information on them had been doing it for quite some time. She smirked to herself. They were little more than a few more ties that needed severing; Xanxus had saved her a lot of wasted free time this way.

Something collided with the back of her head as she turned to enter her room, and sent her staggering slightly forward. One hand shot straight to the back of her head to check for any bleeding while the other dropped into her pocket for a weapon as she turned around. Fran was leaning casually against the railing by the stairs, whistling quietly to himself. Her eyes narrowed slightly at him. Was that a cranberry muffin sitting on the floor? Had he just thrown a _muffin_ at her? She scooped it up off the carpet and stared at it for a second. Yes, it was indeed a muffin. Before she could retort, Big Sis came skipping up the stairs. Rolling her eyes, she took the muffin with her into her room, idly waving for the flamboyant man to follow.

"I see Fran brought you the breakfast you didn't eat.~" She shook her head slowly.

"Yeah... Great. Xanxus said you could help me with my 'clothing problem'?" He nodded and dropped several large bags of fabric and other assorted supplies onto the table. While he began to take measurements and gush about how beautiful her dress was going to look, she tuned him out and opened the invitation she'd been given. As expected, it had been written on beautiful stationary in the careful pen strokes of practiced calligraphy. It had been almost two years since she'd gone to any of the upper class parties she'd been invited to, and she'd almost forgotten how beautiful the invites could be.

_Miss Isabell,_ - the writer lost points for using her proper name right away - _It's been so long since I've seen your beautiful face. I've been informed that you've finally found your long-sought prince as well. It'd be an honor if you'd both attend my little get together: Friday night at dusk. We can hardly wait to meet him._

It was personalized and signed by Lavinia, a woman she scarcely remembered meeting sometime around her twentieth birthday. She was in charge of her father's less than savory mafia connections, which meant she'd at least prove to be more of a challenge than the last man. The fact that she used the word 'we' was mildly disheartening. His connections obviously had yet to hear of his... unfortunate passing. Her chain of thought was broken by a pin jabbing her in the side. Whipping around to see what Lussuria could possibly have wanted, she saw the beginnings of an amazing dress resting on a tailor's form. It was strapless with a corset top and room for some kind of trim. There was a long split on the left side of the front, and the bottom had the beginnings of what looked like an elegant feather trim. Seperate bell-style sleeves were laid out on the bed, and were equally unfinished. The dress looked like something out of a dark fairy tale: form fitting to the hips, and flowing the rest of the way.

"Where you're working with Bel, I thought scarlet would be an appropriate color. What do you think?~" He beamed as he began to add the trim to the sleeves and corset: a combination of feathers in black and varying shades of red. She couldn't help but gasp quietly.

"It's gorgeous..." She ran a hand down the soft fabric in mild awe as he finished adding the trim.

"Well, don't just stand there drooling you silly girl, try it on.~ I want to make sure I got it right." Nodding, she gently took the dress in her arms and rushed into the bathroom to change. She did so in under two minutes, unclipping the usual half of her bangs and making sure the sleeves were properly in place before stepping back into the room. He applauded what he saw and motioned for her to step up on a stool for him to finish with the skirt's bottom trimming. The dress would limit her to only being able to carry a few knives, but that would surely be better than nothing at all.

"Sis, you're amazing, you know that?" He gave her a bashful wave and handed her a pair of black stilletto heels. Putting them on seemed to complete his idea, causing him to grab her by the wrist and pull her out into the hall before she could protest. She was dragged two doors down the hall and groaned quietly as she realized exactly what was going on. He knocked lightly on the door.

"Oh Bel.~ Are you decent in there yet?" The faint sound of the door unlocking was the only answer he received. Smiling broadly, he opened the door and motioned toward her. "What do you think?~"

He was wearing a well-tailored, and very expensive black suit over a red shirt. The top three buttons were still undone, and he'd yet to put his precious little tiara back in the safety of his hair. She couldn't figure out if he was staring or glaring at her, but from the way his mouth hung slightly open she assumed the former. He seemed to quickly regain his composure, turning to the two of them and bringing a hand to his chin in almost comical contempaltion. A wide grin quickly spread across his face and he gave the older man a nod.

"I told you red was her color." Her eye narrowed. Somehow, she knew Lussuria hadn't chosen scarlet on his own. The ring on her finger sparked with mild agitation.

"And you were right.~ I just wanted you to see the finished result. Isn't she dazzling?" This time, Isabell couldn't help but smack her forehead.

"Sis... You can stop now. Really. I don't have self confidence problems." She shooed him away and took a comfortable postion against the wall opposite of the open door. How on earth was she going to make the others believe they were a couple? They could barely even be in the same hallway without some kind of knife fight happening, let alone be within arm's reach for any amount of time. She glowered at him, trying to think of something - _anything_ - to make this work. Her stare shifted to the floor in deep thought, closing her ears off to the sound of his approach.

"Can you act your part?" He asked mockingly. Those buttons were still bothering her. Rolling her eyes, she fastened two of them - leaving the rest at the top undone for the usual appeal - as her own way of answering.

"As much as I don't want to, yes." She growled, "It's _you_ I'm worried about. You have the manners of a rabid hyena." Turning her back to him, she began to walk toward the stairs, her mind already cranking out back up plans for when - not if, but when - their ruse failed. The only question was which one of them would wind up blowing their cover. An arm wrapping around her stomach and a hand on her shoulder ground her planning to a halt.

"I can be convincing if I need to." She felt her face heat up slightly, wondering if he'd figured out that close contact bothered her. The hand on her shoulder drifted along her spine. That certainly answered that question. Her right hand gently grabbed his wrist and freed herself from his grip, she hesitated for a split second before hurrying downstairs. Ciela's voice was already nagging her about the hesitation in movement as she exited the building and slid into her seat for the ride there. Uncapping a travel sized lipstick, she occupied herself for a few moments in an attempt to shut the annoying voice out.

A voice that questioned why she'd gotten so cold the second she escaped his grasp.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Well, it's been a little bit since I've updated, and I apologize for that. What happens next is more than likely going to be spread over the next couple of chapters: I can promise you a lot of blood, and a flicker of Bel's act not going quite the way he planned. As always, I look forward to reviews (none of that 'you suck' BS. It's a waste of time and energy).<strong>

**Song used for this chapter:  
><strong>- _Shut Me Up_ by Mindless Self Indulgence **(for the sparring session)  
><strong>- _Fake It_ by Seether **(for the remainder of the chapter)**


	8. A Glimpse Behind the Curtain

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, it's characters, or the songs used to write this chapter.  
><strong>**I still own Isabell and my friend's soul.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>  
><strong>[A Glimpse Behind the Curtain]<strong>

They divided the targets evenly between themselves during a rather tense ride to the estate. Isabell kept feeling her eyes drift in Bel's direction, still trying to get over the idea that he actually looked somewhat like a prince instead of his usual bratty self. Barely a word was spoken between them aside from the business at hand. The basic premise was simple: they'd meet the targets, and pick them off one by one while quietly intermingling with the other party goers. It would mean they may need to actually act as though they cared about one another, but it would also give them the cover they needed. She had just finished applying some smoky eyeshadow as the limo slowed to a halt. The door beside her opened, and he quickly crawled outside. Sighing, she was about to follow suit when he offered a hand to help her out. A thin smile crept across her face: he didn't waste a second in getting into character. She took hold of his hand and stepped outside, immediately intertwining her arm in his and heading up the stairs to the front doors - thankful for the warmth of having him so close in the cooling dusk.

Lavinia threw the doors wide open before they even reached the top step. The woman had the body of a super model and was wearing a curve-hugging champagne colored dress that trailed behind her and tied behind her neck. Her black hair had been styled into a single curl that hung over her left shoulder. She was wearing expensive perfume and glittering gold eyeshadow. Isabell had several nasty thoughts that she struggled to keep to herself as the woman flashed a recently whitened smile a the two of them.

"Isabell!" She rushed down the two steps separating them and hugged her tightly, "I haven't seen you in _ages_. My god, you look amazing! How have you _been_?"

"Very bored, Lavinia. There's _nothing_ to do around here. You've made my week." She giggled lightly and broke off the embrace as Lavinia turned to study her date.

"And who's this handsome devil?" She brought a hand to her mouth as Bel flashed her an amused grin, "Is _this_... Is this the prince I heard about? Oh, your mother would be so _proud_ of you!" The gold-clad woman gave her another tight hug, making her cough and gently break the embrace herself.

"Indeed he is. Lavinia, I'd like you to meet Belphegor." The woman immediately gave him an iron-gripped hug. Bell almost couldn't stop herself from laughing.

"You have no idea how long we've been waiting for her to find someone. And Bell, dear, what a catch!"

"La_vin_i_a_," she groaned, the embarrassment in her tone completely genuine, "Can the gushing wait for a couple seconds? It's chilly out here." The woman's eyes widened, as though she'd completely forgotten that they were still standing outside, and she quickly waved them through the open doors.

"You two are the guests of honor tonight, you know." She beamed at them, "Xavier tried to invite Ciela and your father, but they never responded. You two're the only guests of status that weren't too busy tonight. Isn't he lucky?" The two Bels shared a mischievous glance and smile behind the woman's back. Ignorance must truly be bliss.

They were lead down several well-decorated hallways and into a large ballroom area. Lavinia bade them a temporary farewell and told them to enjoy themselves while she attended to some business. Bell wandered quietly to one of the sides of the room and assumed her usual role of quietly watching everything unfold around her and listening to the music roll from the far end of the room. She overheard the usual gossip of the upper class, nothing she really cared for, and quickly lost sight of her 'date'. He reappeared five minutes later with something cradled in his hands. She couldn't get a good look at it, and he slipped behind her much too fast for her to chance a glimpse. Ignoring it, she returned to studying the guests, searching for any of their targets in the sea of conversing socialites. She was so engrossed in her search that she almost didn't notice the sudden chill of metal around her neck. Her hand shot toward the cold feeling, lightly brushing across several draping stones in a silver setting. Deft fingers quickly clasped the necklace in place before she could stop them. She whipped around and shot him a look.

"What?" He asked innocently.

"Where did you..." She began to ask, stopping herself before she said something foolish. He pointed to a large woman who obviously had more money than she knew what to do with. She was wearing several draping diamond necklaces and bracelets. Her curiosity now peaked, she ran a hand across her neck. It was a black diamond choker, with small hanging white drops between the stones. A particularly long one hung in the middle, and she could see the stones glittering brightly in the dim lighting. "Why?" She finally managed.

"You were the only one here without some kind of necklace. If anyone asks, it was a gift." She muttered a quiet thank you. She was going to miss this false sweetness once this mission was over; it made him... tolerable. Her eyes returned to scanning the crowd. This method of trying to pick out their chosen three targets wasn't going to work at all. Off on the far side of the room, she could hear some man bragging about how he recently won a dance competition - and something in her head clicked. Everyone looked like they could use some kind of distraction. Slowly, she turned to her partner with a clever smile.

"Can you dance?"

"Standard ballroom, tango, or competition grade?" He grinned. Though she wouldn't openly admit it to anyone, that sinister trademark of his was starting to grow on her - Lussuria was right. At least this time it meant they were on the same page. Her eyes drifted up toward the balcony-like outcroppings circling the ballroom in mock thought before settling back on him with a devious look.

"Surprise me. Something to hold their attention until Lavinia comes back. I have a feeling she'll bring the others." Giving her a quick nod, he left her to go play with the stereo that their host had the courtesy to keep running - despite none of the guests' interest in any sort of music. She couldn't help but shake her head as a few of the guests gave him a confused look as he connected his own music player and flipped through the contents, and laughed quietly as a few very unaware women floated to his side. Appearing to find what he was looking for, he made his way back with the women close at his heels. He didn't catch a break until he returned to her side and offered a hand to lead her to the dance floor. She flashed the women a wicked look before following him toward the center of the room, snickering quietly at the disappointed looks on their faces. There were times when it really was good to be the princess.

Once at the center of the room, the guests finally seemed to get the idea and quickly spread out in two wide arcs to give them the space they needed. Somewhere behind her, a hand fell on her shoulder and another wrapped itself around her waist. As soon as the song began, they were moving in perfect time - a clever disguise while their eyes scanned the crowd for the six targets. Less than five minutes into the whirling of onyx and scarlet, Bell caught sight of Lavinia slipping quietly through the crowd to see what the commotion was about. Flashing the woman an amused little smile as she spun back into her date's arms, she told him the location of each mark with quick glances of her eyes, to which he nodded. They checked their concealed weapons undetected as their song's end approached, and ended their little dance in an almost photo-worthy pose: dangerously close to one another and both breathing slightly heavy from exertion. Her eyes widened a little as she noticed a few strands of his eye-shielding bangs had slid out of his face. She could actually see one of his eyes! They were a shade silvery grey that turned to a dark orchid the farther one looked from the pupil, both cool and undeniably loyal. It felt as though they could pierce her very soul. As soon as he realized what she was staring at, he turned his head sharply, covering his eye once again. Lavinia applauded loudly, causing the rest of the guests to follow suit, and approached the pair.

"That was incredible!" She cheered, tossing Bel's music player back to him, "Isabell, I need a minute with you, if you don't mind." Bell gave her a nod, and cast a quick glance to her partner as he pulled her back to her feet. She appeared to hug him, leaning close to his ear.

"I'll handle my three while I'm with her. If I'm not back in ten minutes or so, come looking." As she pulled away from his ear, she allowed her lips to gently brush past his, "Thanks for the dance." She gave him an almost mocking wink before hurrying after her father's old associate, mildly unsettled by the thin smirk of 'just you wait' on his face.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Isabell was lead to a room on the second floor, making mental notes of the building's layout on the way there. Two of her targets were conveniently placed in the same hall that this room was in - albeit on opposite ends - but it was looking to be a fairly easy job. She asked Lavinia for a moment or two to catch her breath in the hall before they spoke, to which the woman agreed. Once the assoicate was out of sight, she quickly moved to the farther end of the hall and knocked on the door she'd seen one of the men duck into. As soon as the door opened enough for her to see his face, two of her knives slid down her sleeves and into her hands, which she folded behind her back. She asked him the maker of his suit, feeding him some lie about wanting to buy something similar for her prince, and struck as soon as the door was wide open. Her right hand shot forward and stabbed deep into the man's stomach while the other quickly slit his throat. Instead of simply pulling her right-hand knife free, she dragged it horizontally across his midsection - causing him to grope for his sliding internal organs as he was trying to stop the bleeding in his throat. She calmly stepped away from him, tearing a clean scrap of his lapel to remove the blood from her hands and weapons before closing the door and returning to the hall. That unfortunate man never had a hand in any of the mafia's more violent dealings. It was painfully obvious.

As the door clicked in place, the target from the other end of the hall approached her as quickly as the cane he carried would allow him. She decided to take the faster route with this one, throwing three knives in his direction before he could get in the way: one at his head, another at his throat, and the last one at his heart. He fell to his knees before landing on his face, the bottle of red wine in his hand cracking and spilling out onto the deep red carpet. She'd never been happier to see that color on the floor, and thanked nearly every diety she could think of as she retrieved her knives and stored his body with the other - making a postmortem Y incision used by medical examiners to give the body more of a shock factor. Checking once again to make sure she hadn't ruined her dress, she closed the door tightly and picked up the broken pieces of wine bottle from the floor. Cradling them in her palm, she stepped into the room where Lavinia waited. Seven minutes had already passed. She was running out of time.

"Pavi dropped his wine bottle in the hall," She explained immediately, dumping the broken glass into a trash bin, "Sadly, I don't think the carpet can be saved." Lavinia's back was to her, her hands folded somewhere in front of her, and she was staring out a large window facing the back yard.

"That's quite all right, dear." Her tone was oddly business like as she turned around, shifting her hands behind her in the process, "I suppose you'd like to know why I pulled you away from your darling prince?"

"Yes, I would. I was just starting to enjoy myself." She tried her best to sound deeply disappointed.

"Your prince is a mafia hitman, Isabell. He's dangerous." A wry smile spread across both of their faces. They knew exactly where this conversation was going, and it was far from pleasant. Her knives slid down to her hands, ready for the entire situation to start to head south.

"He's not my prince." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, though her tone was perfectly calm and in control, "And before you say it, I'm not his princess either. We're not lovers, we just work together."

"What a shame. You looked so good together." The woman brought one of her hands forward. A stubby little silver .22 glinted brightly in her grasp - well polished and probably only fired once in her entire lifetime. Despite the weapon pointed at her, Bell felt her face heat up slightly. She bit down on her tongue, trying not to say anything to agitate the situation. A bullet fired at that range would reach her long before the knife could leave her hand. Before she could say anything in her own defense, Lavinia fired.

Isabell's eyes barely had time to register the muzzle flash, and that was only after the searing pain in her left side began. The woman rushed up to her, kneed her painfully in the fresh hole in her side, and hurried out of the room - she assumed it was to inform Xavier of the sudden turn of events and get him to safety. She doubled over in pain, falling to her hands and knees and clutching the bleeding wound. How could she have been so arrogant? A fresh string of curses rolled from her mouth as she leaned up against the desk in the room and stared toward the door. If Belphegor had done what she thought he did, at least two of the remaining targets would be taken care of by now. Fifteen seconds. He should come looking for her in a mere fifteen seconds. It'd be better to wait than to leave a trail of blood all over the place.

The sound of heavy footfalls on carpet quickly approached her, and she almost smiled. Almost. When she saw the two gorillas of personal bouncers turn into the room, her heart sank. The knives she'd been holding were on the floor by the door, and if she stopped applying pressure to the wound it'd gush. She looked up at the men weakly, knowing the situation was becoming very grim very quickly.

_At least I finally saw his eyes. I would've preferred __him__ killing me if it gave me another opportunity._ She admitted to herself. Sighing quietly, she made a small shift to her right and prepared to resign herself to her fate. If she couldn't kill them, he would, which meant when she reached the fires of Hell, she'd have the satisfaction of knowing they wouldn't be far behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I'm such a terrible person for leaving you on a cliffhanger like this. No, it isn't the end of the story, but things are about to take a very nasty turn. I'm really looking forward to the reviews this time (none of that 'you suck' BS. It's a waste of time and energy)!<strong>

****Songs used for this chapter:  
><strong>- **_Joker & The Thief_ by Wolfmother** **(for the majority of the chapter)  
><strong>- **_The Requiem_ by Linkin Park** **(for the end of the chapter)****


	9. A New Challenge

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, it's characters, or the song used to write this chapter.  
><strong>**I still own Isabell and my friend's soul.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>  
><strong>[A New Challenge]<strong>

Her eyes slowly closed as she counted the remaining seconds. Five... four... three... two... A pair of startled gasps sounded in the room in front of her, followed by two very heavy bodies thudding against the plush carpet. She couldn't help but smile a little. The sound had been music to her ears. Opening her eyes slightly, she saw the apes of grunts lying on the ground with at least seven silver knives sticking out of their corpses. Belphegor stood in the doorway, a knife in each hand and his usual smile nowhere to be seen. He looked as though he'd been thoroughly offended by something. In four strides he was standing at her feet, her dropped weapons resting between his index and middle finger. A second later he was crouched at her side, his frown deepening as he studied the hole in her side. She really wished he'd quit staring like that.

"Funny, I don't remember giving that woman permission to make you bleed." He poked his finger into the wound, making her wince.

"Ow." The word was perfectly conversational in tone as she slowly crawled to her feet. From the corner of her eye, she saw him lick the blood from his finger tip. That was the second time he'd taken her blood for himself. The wound couldn't have been too severe if the bleeding had already stopped. Lavinia was obviously still a terrible shot.

"The rest of the guards'll be here any minute now." His grin was slowly returning at the promise of more bloodshed. He held her knives out to her, which she quickly snatched from his hand.

"Then we'll just need to move quickly, won't we?" She flashed him a mildly sadistic smirk, as she carefully dusted off her now ruined dress, "She should be in the back room with Xavier by now. Let's go say 'hi'." He nodded. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and quickly packing her wound as a precaution. In the process, it spurted a little, completely coating his hand. His grin widened at what appeared to be a revolutionary idea. Bell didn't like the way he was looking at her at all, and with good reason. Without any form of warning he stabbed his finger into her mouth, using her tongue to clean the blood from the digit. She shivered as the powerful metallic tang filled her mouth, her one visible eye shining with a new cruelty. In her head, she was fighting with herself in a fleeting attempt to maintain control. A fight that she was rapidly losing. The side of her thumb ran affectionately along the edge of the black steel knives as four more apes rushed into the room - nearly tripping over the bodies of their fallen comrades.

Bell didn't waste a second. The moment her eyes registered more of Lavinia's flunkies, her wrists tensed and she charged at them. Her movements were quick and precise, the dress she was wearing giving her a sort of grim elegance as the men around fell to the floor in bleeding heaps. This wasn't the time to lose control. She wanted to be in her right mind - to be completely aware of her actions - when she brought cold steel to Lavinia's delicate flesh. Exhaling slowly, her racing pulse returned to normal. It looked as though her calm and logical self had won the battle... for now. Her actions had agitated her wound, making her wince a little as she pried the knives from the men her partner had killed. She wouldn't be very useful with a hole in her side like this, but she wasn't about to let him kill the woman who shot her. The stereo was blaring on the floor below them, causing her to give him an inquisitive look.

"Wouldn't want everyone to hear us having fun up here, would you?"

"No, I suppose not." Sighing, she tossed the retrieved weapons to their owner, "I call dibs on the bitch who shot me. You can take her boyfriend." He chuckled.

"Such unladylike language, princess." She said nothing to the remark, leaving the room and making her way toward the back rooms - casually slitting the throats of every bouncer she encountered along the way. Her face was a complete emotionless blank as she approached the heavy doors seperating her from her intended target, and remained as such as she and her partner stepped quietly inside.

Xavier lounged behind his desk, resting his feet on the polished mahogany surface. Bell vaguely remembered meeting the man once, during the time Xanxus had been assigned to keep her safe. He was a man of no moral values and far too many dirty tricks. The man had conned her father out of weapons and money, and she wouldn't be surprised if that was the exact reason why they were here. Lavinia stood at the far left of the room, reading something. Seeing her made Bell bite down on her tongue in anger - instantly making a small cut. The sound of the opening door had caught the woman's attention. As her eyes fell on the bloody girl in the dress and her 'date', her jaw fell open.

"You!" She sputtered, "I _shot_ you! I sent _guards_ after you. How did you-" Isabell flashed her a sinister grin, her logical side taking a back seat once more as fresh blood rolled down her throat.

"I got better." Her head tipped to the left, causing her hair to fall completely out of her face. The woman wearing gold took a step back, seeing something terribly wrong in the bloody woman's eyes. Lavinia shot a concerned glance to her boyfriend, pleading for help with her eyes. Belphegor reached calmly around the chair, pressing a knife to the Xavier's throat and watching his partner close in on her prey. When her eyes returned to where the princess had been standing, she was rushing toward her at an alarming pace. Bell didn't jump at her, she _pounced_, landing on the woman's stomach with her knees pinning Lavinia's arms to the floor at her sides. She squirmed in vain, trying to reach her gun as the madwoman twirled a knife in her hand.

"Xavier!" She yelped, hoping her beloved would come to her rescue. It wasn't meant to be. The prince had already turned the man's chair so that it's high back blocked him from view. The sounds she heard from that general direction resembled something going through a deli meat slicer; it made her shudder. Bell's voice shattered her odd fixation with the noise.

"Goodbye Lavinny." Her voice was almost disturbingly calm, despite the insanity in her eyes, "Tell Ciela I said hello." Her fingers spread outward, turning one wing-shaped knife into eight. The fan of knives descended swiftly toward the woman's throat, severing her head clean from her body. Sadly, all of her swift movment in the past five minutes or so had torn the hole in her side wider. She could feel the edges splitting and moving as she sat up straighter on top of the corpse and put away her weapons. A strange sort of dizziness washed over her, causing her eyelids to flutter closed. Her body suddenly felt weak, and it was taking too much effort to even sit up straight. She fell to the carpet next to Lavinia's headless corpse and descended into darkness, hearing only a few muffled words as she was lifted from the ground.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Dark dreams danced across her eyelids, dragging her to the most sinister reaches of her subconscious mind. Ciela made some kind of appearance with every changing scene to berrate her; it was torturous and cruel, and this newest nightmare was no better. She was watching the very dance she'd preformed only a short while ago, but there was something very different about it. Faintly, only noticable from the occasional glint of light, she could see knives in their hands. A different song than before was playing: filled with soft verses and vicious sounding choruses. She watched herself dance with Bel, slicing through the people watching them and staining the beautiful floor a deep crimson.

"He'll be the death of you, you know," Ciela warned, "But I don't think you could've found better." Bell shot her ghostly sister a confused look, and was about to demand an explanation when she vanished. Did Ciela think that they were actually dating? The thought clung to the back of her mind for several minutes. He tried to kill her on at least three separate occasions. She shouldn't be developing any sort of feeling toward him at all for that. It would be suicide. Struggling to make sense of her own thoughts, she lazily watched the bloody dance unfold around her - a small smile gracing her face with each new body on the floor.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Something brushing across her hair jolted her awake, her hand immediately shooting upward in search of the offending object - brushing across someone's finger tips. The sharp pain in her side stopped her. She clucked her tongue, solding herself for forgetting about the bullet that had pierced her side, and slowly took in her surroundings. Much to her surprise, she was back in her violet-hued bedroom at the Varia mansion. A black suit jacket covered her blood-splattered body, and the majority of the blood had been cleaned from her face and arms. Someone had been taking fairly good care of her while she was out.

"Oh, I'm sorry!~ Did I wake you?" She chuckled quietly. Lussuria.

"If you want me to be honest, yes, but it was probably time for me to get up anyway." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and nearly doubled over. Her entire body was stiff and sore. "Howl long have I been asleep Big Sis?" He brought a hand to his chin and looked toward the ceiling in contemplation.

"It was about three days ago when Bel carried you through the door all battered and bloody." A knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

"Three days?" She stood up shakily, keeping the jacket balanced on her shoulders to keep her warm. There was something very familiar about the soft - and clearly expensive - material. It smelled of blood, sweat... and a very familiar cologne. Lussuria rushed to her side, holding her steady.

"You need to take it easy, Bell. Pea-chan may have been able to heal you, but you're still going to be tender for a little while." She sighed.

"I really appreciate the concern, Sis, but I can't just lay in bed all day." Giving the older man a reassuring smile, she stepped away from him and pulled her closet doors wide open, feeling a desperate need to get out of her ruined dress. Her hand closed around the shoulder of a T-shirt dress that faded from black to an almost neon purple. Passing Lussuira again, she slipped into the bathroom to change and clean the rest of the blood from her body with a wet washcloth. It was bothering her that she'd fainted, and lost three days of her life because of it. Sliding the coat back over her shoulders, she stepped out of the bathroom wearing the short dress and a pair of knee-high boots. Lussuria whistled quietly.

"It's a wonder you haven't found yourself a man, Lady Bell." She grinned at him as she headed for the door.

"That's because men are pigs." Giving him a wink, she strode into the hall and turned to the left. She knew exactly who's coat was draped over her shoulders. He'd more than likely want it back so he could wash her smell off of it. The idea made her giggle as she knocked very quietly on his door. As on the evening they left, the only response from the other side of the door was the quiet 'click' of it unlocking. She gently pushed the door open and half poked her head inside - she was never going to risk walking in on him in only a towel again. Fortunately, he was clothed this time: wearing his black pants, boots, and a black tank top. The stick of a lollipop hung idly from his mouth.

"Good morning, princess. Sleep well?" She bit her tongue at his condescending tone, walking into the room and leaning against the doorframe.

"More nightmares than dreams. I only came to see you so I could give your coat back," sliding the coat off of her shoulders, she tossed it onto the table, "And to say thanks for bringing me back instead of letting me just bleed all over the place." He gave her a nod, and she turned to leave. A knife buried itself in the door next to her head.

"Are you well enough to play a game?" Something told her it didn't matter if she was or not. She sighed.

"What kind of game..."

"A new one. I want to play with that crazier half - the one that chopped off that woman's head three nights ago." A chill ran down her spine. Was he crazy? It took nearly all of her strength to hold back with the first four grunts, and even more not to leave Lavinia looking more like ground chuck than a human being. And he wanted to play one of his little games with that lunatic?

"Why would you want to do a thing like that?" Her tone was suddenly very icy.

"Because she won't complain if she bleeds. And she'll fight back."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Looks like Bel's in the mood for another game... This chapter struck me as a little lack-luster compared to the others, but I've been pretty distracted by life's goings-on. I plan on having a <strong>_**lot**_** of fun with the next chapter. As always, I look forward to reviews (none of that 'you suck' BS. It's a waste of time and energy).**

****Song used for this chapter:  
><strong>- **_No Jesus Christ_ by Seether


	10. Unpredictable

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, it's characters, or the songs used to write this chapter.**

**I still own Isabell and my friend's soul.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<br>****[Unpredictable]**

Isabell took the time before nightfall to find some different clothes and shower. This latest request from the bloodthirsty prince just wouldn't sit right. Why on earth would he be the least bit interested in playing one of his 'games' with the most twisted part of her being? Stepping out of the warmth of the shower, she fluff dried her hair and combed it out before cleaning the steam from the mirror. She stared deeply into her own eyes, hoping they'd somehow give her the answer she hoped for. The pale grey eyes staring back at her told her nothing.

_"You know, if you let that side of you out to play, you'll end up killing one another."_ Ciela's voice invaded her thoughts. She bit her lip. That was a very grim possibility. She wandered out of the bathroom to the clothes she'd laid out on her bed, checking to be sure her door was locked tight on the way. If she was going to be pulled into another one of Belphegor's games, the cute little dress and heels she'd changed into when she woke up wouldn't be the best thing to be wearing. This time around, she had her trusty leather pants, and a purple top that was short on the left side and long on the right. She topped it off with a cropped leather jacket and a pair of tall purple boots. Adjusting the circlet on her head, she unlocked the door and made her way to the last place she expected to run into any of her new 'family': the library. She found a quiet little corner by the window and curled up with a copy of H.P. Lovecraft's collected works to try to relax until dusk. The sound of the door opening and closing at the far end of the room told her relaxtion wasn't a possibility. And the voice of the person who entered had her braced for another bad joke.

"Crazy princess, what're you doing in here?"

"I'm reading, you toad," She spat, still far from happy about the botched Bel disguise, and the muffin, "What's it look like?"

"It looks like something's bothering you." He answered plainly, clearly unphased by her hostile response. She sighed. There really was no way to deter that boy, "Does it have to do with Bel-sempai?" Her head turned quickly from her book to the frog-hat-wearing boy.

She was silent for several moments. "Yes." It wasn't exactly something she wanted to discuss. Her mind was set on trying to find a way to control that complete and utter insanity that took over whenever she got blood in her mouth. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. It's not like I have anything to do." He pulled up a chair next to her seat at the window sill.

"I need something to keep myself busy. Reading just isn't cutting it right now. Would you help me play a tiny little joke on Squalo - at Bel's expense?" A faint, mischievious glint came to the Varia member's eyes. He obviously liked where this was going. Grabbing her by the wrist, he dragged her out of the library and back to the hallway near her room. The pair crouched by a corner, waiting for the prince to leave his room in search of his usual snacks. Bell had a moment of faint nostalgia: this was almost like the night she'd killed her sister. When he passed them and descended the stairs, they rushed to his door and tried the knob.

"Locked." Fran muttered. Bell dropped to one knee, producing two of her knives, and quickly went to work. Thirty seconds later, it clicked open. She gave him a proud wink and slipped inside. Fran followed quietly behind her, watching as she raided his closet for a usable shirt and scoured for some kind of 'spare' tiara. Having no luck, she turned to the illusionist as she removed her coat and pulled Bel's shirt on over her own.

"Looks like you'll need to work a little harder than last time, sorry."

"It's all right, crazy princess." In a couple of seconds, she was once again disuised perfectly as the prince - even her voice. She snickered quietly to herself, buring her hands in her pockets.

"Have I ever told you I love your skills, Froggy?" She grinned, grabbing him by the wrist for a change and slinking quietly toward the stairs. This time, she was able to see Bel approaching and hid behind a slightly open door that lead to a vacant room. A member of the cleaning staff saw her and gasped, eyes wide with terror. She brought a finger up to her mouth and mimed for her to keep quiet, grinning broadly. The terrfied maid nodded and resumed her work. Apparently her disguise was once again flawless.

"Coast's clear," Fran whispered, "Let's go." She nodded to him and they hurried down the stairs toward the living room. Squalo was lounging comfortably on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn in his lap and some random movie of his choice playing on the TV. It appeared that he'd fallen asleep during the show. Snickering, she passed the open archway and opened a closet door for supplies. In a couple of minutes time, she'd created a bucket of fake blood, the only real ingredient needed for a slight scare. If this wouldn't send Bel into a world of hurt, nothing would.

"You're not going to mess this one up too, are you?" She demanded from the frog. He shook his head rapidly.

"Not when you're looking at me like Bel-sempai does. I don't want to become a target for _two_ fake princes." She grinned and gave him a nod, the bucket in her hand swaying slightly with the motion. A faint snicker from behind her made her freeze.

"Crazy princess, I think he noticed his shirt was missing." She gave Fran an agitated look, her smile evaporating as she gently set the bucket down on the floor.

"You think?" She growled. Bel snickered again.

"Ever see a shark suffering from double-vision?" He asked, leaning toward her and Fran. Her grin immediately returned, knowing exactly where he was going with this.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Isabell brought her dinner to her room once again, not wanting to be anywhere near Squalo after what happened earlier. Having two Bel's mysteriously appear, wake him up, and proceed to taunt and torment him had left the swordsman a little more than just upset. This time around, she was smart enough to make herself a small sandwich instead of stealing only a piece of fruit - though she managed to sneak another pommegranite just as easily. She sat on the balcony, picking seeds out of the fruit as she prepared herself for this newest challenge. There was no way for her to control her actions when she lost it, and she was unable to predict an outcome that wouldn't leave them both within an inch of their lives. If he made her taste her own blood, she'd cut him. If she cut him, and he saw his own blood, he'd go into a cutting frenzy. If he went into a cutting frenzy while she was in that state, she'd retaliate in much the same fashion. It was a real no-win situation. A faint knock on the door broke her concentration as she tried to find a way to control her psychosis.

"It's open." She called from outside, popping a lollipop into her mouth along with another few seeds. The door opened and shut quickly and quietly. It didn't take the knife pressed to the back of her neck to tell her who had come to pay her a visit. The sun had set, the other Varia members were headed to their beds for the night. It was game time. She instinctively drew an knife of her own and pressed it to the front of his throat.

"So you _do_ want to play." He snickered, "Messing with Sharky wasn't enough for you?"

"He's much too easy." She replied, turning to face him. Her eyes drifted to where she knew his were, wondering if they were still as calm as she'd seen on their mission together or bright with the prospect of a potential fight. His hand wrapped around her wrist and forced her to hold her palm upward as he moved the knife dangerously close to her lifeline. Before she could protest or close her hand, the blade slid across the pre-existing line - drawing blood instantly. She tried to pulle her hand away in defiance, but he held on tightly, dipping one of his fingers in the freshly drawn blood and plucking the candy from her mouth. As soon as the candy was gone, she held her mouth tightly shut. She didn't want to kill him. He only grinned at her reaction and grabbed her wounded side, pressing his thumb into the spot where the bullet had once been. Bell gasped in pain, and he quickly ran the bloody digit over her tonge, his grin growing wider as she shivered.

"There. Much better." He released her wounded side and took three quick steps backward, "Time to play." With those words, he tore off down the hall. As if she couldn't control her own actions, she dragged her tongue across the bleeding wound. The taste of her own blood quickly overwhelmed her to the point where she couldn't restrain herself. A sadistic smile crept to her face and her eyes widened with a sort of twisted glee. It was her turn to play the cat this time. She leaned forward and sprinted out into the hall, her ears straining for the slightest sound that would tell her where he ran to. Something shifted around the corner at the far end of the hall. It had to be him. Quietly, almost silently, she made her way to the corner and peered around it. Three silver blades rushed toward her. One of her own knives slid to her hand and she knocked them aside before responding with three of her own.

"You'll need to do better than that." She taunted, then hissed as another knife slid across her right cheek. Clucking her tongue, she shot down the hall in the direction of the thrown knives. Hit and run tactics wouldn't do much to hide his location if he needed to throw his weapons. Rounding the next corner, she found another empty hall. With an open window. This time she threw a knife out it first. Hearing it hit another piece of metal, she leaped out the window and landed lightly on the ground - right next to him. He threw a pair of defensive knives, to which she threw three more. One of them buried itself in his lower leg, and a giggle fit immediately commenced. If he was going to drive her mad, she was making it a point to do the same. His fit of laughter worsened as she closed the distance between the two of them, whipping around with a knife in his hand aimed right for her shoulder. She brought up a knife of her own, catching his in her hand while he did the same. They didn't wince or falter, each trying to press the other into submission.

"Now _this_ is fun, princess." He cackled, jumping into the air and bringing his heel down on her shoulder. She grit her teeth, wrapping her hands around his ankle, and threw him to the ground. A split second later, she was on top of him, a knife pressed dangerously to his throat. He grabbed her by the wrist and rolled to the side, quickly taking her position and pinning her to the ground. She squirmed and struggled, but was only sucessful in shifting her legs slightly apart. Twirling the knife in her hand, she stabbed into his wrist - making him flinch and giving her the room she needed to escape. He was still, however, much to fast in his crazed state of mind, kneeing her in the lower back with enough force to make her stagger to the mansion wall. Her face smacked against the cold surface and dazed her just long enough for him to grab hold of her hair.

_"Isabell! Get a hold of yourself before one of you kills the other!"_ Her logical self begged in the back of her mind. Ignoring the plea, she turned and her elbow connected with the prince's temple. The attack didn't go quite as planned: he pulled her to the ground with him, causing her to land with her back on his chest. A knife found its way to her throat once more, to which she responded by biting into his exposed arm. He growled in pain, but released his grip and allowed her to scramble to her feet. She turned to pin him, but he rushed to his feet and drove his shoulder into her stomach, slamming her back into the wall. He rested the flat of his knife on her cheek, studying her like someone sizing up their latest kill. She was breathing heavily, most of her energy already spent, and was entirely unable to prevent him from pinning her arms up over her head. Even in this out of control state, she was able to tell when she was beaten, causing her to sigh and hang her head in defeat. He was stronger than her, there was no way around it. She pressed her forehead to his.

"All right," she panted, "You win. Now let me go." She squirmed against the grip on her wrists, but in vain. He only snickered.

"I think I like you better this way," He taunted, "All panicked and bloody." She recoiled almost instantly, unsure what to make of the comment. How deep did his madness go when he started to bleed? He normally didn't want anything to do with her at all unless it was to frustrate her. She watched as he returned his knife to his pocket, and winced as he ran a finger across the wound on her hand. He cleaned the blood away thoughtfully before grabbing hold of her hair once more - this time pulling her toward him. Their lips crashed painfully together, making her both gasp in pain and bite down on his lower lip in an attempt to free herself. He pulled away just as hastily as he'd pulled her to him, a look of pure amusement on his face as her teeth dragged across his lower lip, releasing her wrists and keeping his face inches from hers. Bell's arms fell limply to her sides as she tried to process what'd just happened. Had that been because he was completely out of his mind? Maybe he knew it would make her uncomfortable? She felt her face heat up as the ideas turned over in her head and turned away from him to hide her embarrassment, her knife dropping to the ground with a dull 'thunk'. The unexpected action from him had returned her to a normal state of mind in an instant.

"Bel..." She muttered, embarrassment clear in her voice and still able to feel him breathing close by.

"What?" He was smiling still; she could hear it. Cursing herself in the back of her head, she whipped around to face him again.

"That was completely out of line and uncalled for." She snapped, resisting the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He chuckled and plucked her weapon out of the dirt, dusting it off before holding it out to her.

"But you enjoyed it," He teased, enjoying every second of her discomfort, "Didn't you." She clucked her tongue, unable to either confirm or deny the notion. It might have actually been pleasant if she hadn't felt so threatened. Her hand closed loosly around his wrist.

"It was sloppy." She taunted, her grip on his wrist tightening, "When a prince kisses a princess, it's not supposed to be brutal and agonizing." She tugged him lightly toward her, gently holding her lips to his for a few brief seconds. Her arms slid behind his neck, and she could've sworn she felt something behind her pull her closer. When she pulled away, she managed a thin smile. He looked just as embarrassed as she did.

"What was that for?"

"To prove my point," she took the knife from his hand and tucked it into her coat pocket, "And to properly thank you for not leaving me with a bullet in my side." Giving him a playful wink, she turned on her heel and headed toward the door. It'd been a long night, and she could really use the sleep.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

_"I told you he was your perfect match."_ Ciela laughed as she stepped into her room and shut the door.

"You're dead, Ciela, what would you know?" She half-laughed back, "We were only playing, after all."

_"I know you can't stop smiling, little sister. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you really __did__ find your prince."_ Bell paused halfway to her bed at the thought, but quickly brushed it aside. She hadn't been entirely in her right mind tonight, there was no way she was falling for a killer prince.

"It was only a game..." She yawned as she changed into her silk nightclothes and crawled under the covers.

_"A game that ended with a somewhat passionate kiss."_ Ciela teased.

"Oh, shut up." She grumbled, burying her face in her pillow. He'd only been toying with her, right? There was no way she'd actually managed to draw his attention... Or for him to have finally caught hers.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Bell! Oh my!~ Did something in all that bloodshed do something to your perspective? That's quite a 'game' they're playing... Anyway, as always, I look forward to reviews (none of that 'you suck' BS. It's a waste of time and energy).<strong>

****Songs used for this chapter:  
><strong>**- _Electropop_ by Jupiter Rising  
>- <em>Enemy<em> by Papa Roach


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